


we'll be strangers

by fakedolls



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Fictional, Gay Sex, I have no idea what to tag, M/M, Narry - Freeform, Reincarnation, Strangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-09 23:10:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2001612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fakedolls/pseuds/fakedolls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was stillness for a few minutes as Niall's blue eyes drifted away to look at his hands engulfing Harry's wrists. His long fingers were awry and palm massive. He had a cross tattoo on the right one. Something shone in the darkness, and Niall narrowed his eyelids to look better. He elevated Harry's hand in front of his face, examining without Harry fighting back. He pulled out from his pocket the abhorrent ring and compared it to the one on Harry's finger. They were the same. </p><p>A reincarnation fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we'll be strangers

**Author's Note:**

> excuse any errors. english isn't my native language.
> 
> I worked on that more than two weeks probably and i stayed up at night to finish it finally. plus i REALLY hope you will enjoy that. 
> 
> the characters are meeting at the same date and age, only in different eras of their lifes. i did a research about the first part, just for you to know. i didn't want to mention death so, yeah that's the outcome.

(inspired by [this](http://harrvy.tumblr.com/post/91480965669/leit-motifs-reincarnation-au-sorry-to) post.)  
 **  
10 th November, 1831.  
  
  
**The irradiant streetlamps illuminate London's somber black skies. Chill weather took over and raindrops began to fall on the road. Vehicles parked at the curbs and counted folks were now striding their way back home. It was a few more days until autumn is over, and Harry was glad. Winter always gave him inspiration, every time he finished writing another idea came up to his mind.  
He observed his setting; he knew he should be attending to this bloody cocktail party the head of the newspaper arranged in one of the pubs down the street. But frankly, he'd rather walk around his beloved city than be drinking pricey liquids from fancy glasses around people he tolerates quietly.  
  
As he walked amongst the people in the avenue the thoughts of new material to write have sprung up in his head. He wasn't a professional, though, he knew that. Well, he writes for London's local newspaper frequently but he had never considered it as something he wants to achieve in his life. He wanted to publish a book of his own. People always had something nice to say about the way he writes, and some, as usual, had more bitter thoughts. They claimed it was too dark and vague, some found it intriguing.  
  
Only if they knew the reasons, merely they knew how he needs to hide who he really is, must be afraid of what others will think if they knew. He frightens his life. Being the man he is, being the person he never chose to be, is wrong.  
He wished he could view a woman the same way normal blokes could without having to think about men instead. He fancied being like all others, being free out of his internal cage. He wanted to express himself in public, and not between four walls with zero windows. So he did, he tried, in his poems. He did it very cautiously, never used the false letters, never gave too much of information. It was invariably big words lined up with each other, hidden meaning behind every written sentence. In times, he deviated, and he spilled it all on the sheet, all his feelings and thoughts, no barriers, no limits, no fear. Though those, those only meant for his eyes to see.

The fact that he was well known in town made the situation even more defective. More people will know. More people will loathe him, more degradation and more opportunities he shall lose. He certainly didn't want that, not to mention how his life will be done at twenty-four, literally done.

With his head ducked down, he couldn't see the person he bumped in. Harry promptly snapped his head up, his eyes instantly met blue that took his breath away.  
The man began to ramble out apologies in a thick Irish accent. Harry reassured him it was okay, he didn't even notice the fedora that left his head.  
  
 "Um, you dropped it, too," The boy says, crouching on his knee and picking the hat up, handing it back to Harry as he put it under his arm rather than wearing it on his head once again.  
  
The young lad had an ombré hair, wearing a knitted vest upon a crisp white shirt, collar buttoned up neatly. A camera case hung on his shoulder, pale skin and cherry lips. Harry thought he was beautiful.  
  
"Thank you," Harry murmured, nodding him in acknowledge, wanting to leave, but then he remembered he lost his way to the pub, the city swept him to a completely other direction than he intended to go to.  
  
"Excuse me," he starts again, and the lad didn't even catch a breath as he turned on his heel to face Harry. "Do you know where the pub is, maybe? Reckon I lost my path."  
  
The unnamed man runs his fingers through his silk-looking hair and licks his lips before he speaks, "There're only two pubs down the street, I'm going to one of them to do me job. They're right next to each other. You can come along with me?"

His tone was unsure, but the stranger sounded like he really wanted to help. "Harry," Harry introduced himself, gesturing his hand towards the boy and taking a step forward.  
  
The boy nodded, doing the same only with a lit smile. "'M Niall,"  
  
  
 **  
** **\----------------**  
  
  
The walk to the pub wasn't long, and Niall seemed like a nice chap. He laughed at Harry's horrid jokes and his improvised Irish accent. He told him he was a lensman and he came to shoot some cocktail party of a London newspaper. Harry almost snorted.  
  
"Small world," he cooed quietly under his breath, tucking his palms into his breeches pockets, just like Niall did.  
  
Niall laughed, "How come?"  
  
"I'm due there as well."   
  
"Oh you are?" Niall raised an eyebrow in amusement, "So you're from the luxury people or whatever you call yourselves? Living in mansions, eating seafood and stakes rather than a jam plain poor sandwich? Treating the common people like rubbish?"  
  
Harry shakes his head vigorously, a little put off by his accusation. "First off, I _am_ kind to you aren't I? I'm just a writer, and Ithink that a plain poor jam sandwich will suffice to fill my stomach."  
  
"I see," Niall uttered, lifting his head up to see they reached their destination. "Forgive my outburst."

He opened the wooden door letting Harry go in first as the bell's ringing and announcing new bodies entered the pub. "It's fine. Really, I see where you're coming from." He retorted, removing his fedora and coat, taking a brief glance at the boy who just stands there. With the new light of the place, he noticed some stubble growing on his sharp chin.  
  
He watched as Niall passed by him, taking a spot at some corner of the pub and pulling out his camera and placing it on its stand. Harry shook his head, running a hand through his long curly hair and treading his way to sit on the bar. He orders a glass of wine, he's not much of a drinker, but he does love some red. It's a risky choice, if he's honest. People consider the drink as a feminine one, while blokes order whiskey and gin. He really doesn't get it. He decides to take it in a tumbler glass, just in case.  
  
An hour passes by and he regrets even coming here. He honestly could just have a circle in town instead of attending this snobbish party he never wanted to be a part of. Some might say he's holding too much back, he argues he's trying his best to let go, but if he will, it's not going to end well. If he shows the world the real him, then he can imagine the worse. It's not acceptable. So he plays up, disguising himself with forced seductive stares to the ladies and a mischievous smirk, lifting his glass up as to acknowledge them.  
  
Richard, the head of the newspaper approached him, patting his back as Harry tries not to wince at his rigid touch. He was a very boastful man, arrogant and wealthy. Harry wasn't much fond of him, but he could help him in promotion. So he tolerated, like he always do. "Eying the bird there?" the older said with his thunderous deep voice, swigging from his whiskey when he saw Harry is distracted by someone behind him.  
  
Harry gulped, fast to agree, "Precisely,"  
  
Little did he know it was actually the lensman he was observing at, getting goose bumps when he gave him the same look. Niall smiled, bending over the camera and snapping a picture, smirking afterwards. Harry maintained his look. Thankful that the woman sitting at the table right beside the blond was still there, watching him too, thinking it was for her. Niall no longer gazed him as someone began to converse with him about an unknown topic. Harry bit his lip in disappoint, concentrating back at his drink.  
  
"Good taste you've got, kid. A brunette, red lips, curved body and big tits." Harry wanted to vomit, this man was married and he talks about another female.  
  
"Yeah," he murmured frowning, finishing his glass of wine.  
  
"See you later, lad." Richard laughed after two more whiskey glasses and sodded off from the bar to talk to other attenders. Harry sighed in relief.  
  
One more hour until he can leave to his ratty flat; he'll lock the door and get into the hot shower, have a wank and give a try to his sleep. The thought makes him feel anticipated.  
  
Someone slides on the seat next to him. He doesn’t bother to see who it is up until the Irish accent fills his ear for the second time this evening. "You again," Harry says, flushed. He's got no clue why, but the crimson just appears on his cheeks.  
  
"Me, again," Niall repeats, amusement visible in his voice as he cocks his head to look at the boy beside him. Harry traces his forefinger on the rim of his glass as he looks down at it.  
  
"So… how're your photos come out?" asks Harry, valiantly tilting his head to the side as his eyes meets the blue, ready to drawn in them.  
  
Niall chuckles, "I guess they are good." The bartender served the pint Niall had ordered earlier and Niall thanks him, conscious to the fact that Harry's still staring.  
  
"So you're done here?" Harry sounds nervous and he curses himself for that.  
  
"Reckon so, yeah," the blond replies absently, testing the taste of his beer. He raises his eyebrows as though he's impressed and gulps half of it in no time. It makes Harry laugh. "Wanna get out of here?" Niall asks randomly, taking out some quid to pay his drink, standing up to his feet.  
  
Harry nods –because thank God—and pays his own alcoholic beverage, following Niall to the cold autumnal street as he rushes with his hat and coat outside. Niall walks ahead of him and he's quick to catch his pace. Niall laughs and robs Harry's hat from his hands, probing its shape with his massive hands.  
  
"Some fancy hat that one," Niall compliments, observing it and trying it on his head. "How I look?" he grins, extending his arms as if to give Harry a spacious view.  
  
"Foolish." Harry snorts, sheepish smile showing on his lips. His comment only makes his companion titter.  
  
"S'not that bad though," he shrugs, stepping closer to Harry and putting the fedora back on his head. "Better on you anyway." he retreats as blue eyes skates over Harry's attire.  
  
Harry's heart swells, butterflies wild in his guts. He smiles and Niall returns. "I want to show you something," Niall says, and Harry envies his carefree nature.  
  
He only met him two hours ago and now he's acting like they've known for years.  
  
Harry stutters, doesn't know how to answer. "I…I don't know, I need to go home."  
  
"I'm not a murderer, Harry. I promise," Niall laughs dryly, lifting his hands in defense. "It's gonna be fine, c'mon."  
  
He tugs at Harry's sleeve, bringing him to his side as they walk.  
  
  
 **  
\--------------  
  
**  
The two stood in front of an old building, cold breeze penetrating through their clothes as it reaches their bones. Harry shivered, Niall did the same.  
  
"Shall we get inside?"    
  
Harry retorted a yes and Niall lead the way into the building. The stairs cracked and it was all dark. Unintentionally Harry clung to Niall's side and Niall began in a fist of laughter. "You scared?" he asks, stifling his last sniggers.  
  
Harry mumbled something Niall couldn't comprehend. "N-No, it's just dark, right?"

Niall chuckled again, "Right."   
  
They climbed thirty-five more stairs –not like Harry counted— as they got to a wooden door. Niall opened it and suddenly, a cold wind hit them once again. It was a roof observing to the city. Harry looked around, noticing that Niall had already took his spot, sitting by the edge of it, elbows supporting his weight as he's leaning on them, taking the sight of the city in front of him. The city looked larger as buildings and shops became minimal, a few lights sparkled from flat's windows and streetlamps were barely visible at this height. Shining stars having some kind of hope as they glow, accompanied by the lune.  
  
"I like it here. It's pretty, isn’t it?" Niall says absently, briefly turning his head to look at Harry, who stood there with his hands tucked in his trousers' pockets.  
  
Harry had to admit as he sat close to the engrossed blond lad, "Beautiful."  
  
They maintained silence, that somewhat was settling. Harry wondered how he tagged along with this boy so easily, because if the few people that really know him will find out, it's promised they'll raise an eyebrow and snort in his face. Harry is never that easy.  
  
"So, how is it, to be a lensman? Working with the camera?" Harry questioned warily, trying not to give a bad impression.  
  
"Great actually, I like to perpetuate things that's happening in life so, I reckon the interest is coming from that." He responded nonchalantly.  
  
Harry caught his piercing gaze, although his face were fixed on the view in front of them, he could feel it. "Mm, still amused by the fact they brought a photographer to a bloody cocktail party. Don't know why they needed one."  
  
"Hey, don't be a cunt, lad. At least _I_ got something from the outcome,"  
  
Harry locked his gaze, his expression giving away he was only kidding. "Yeah, some money," Harry commented, sounding harsher than he had intended.  
  
"Well, I need it if I want a roof to live under and some bread to eat, money isn't handy nowadays." He was defending himself, and Harry didn't want him having to explain anything. Of course he needs money, Harry needs it too.  
  
Another wave of quiet came between them. Harry watched briskly as Niall ran his fingers through his hair, scratching his scalp, bleached roots looming in between his slender long fingers. For an immoral moment Harry imagined how they'd feel inside of him. How he'll come just from him thrusting them into him as they spot Harry's sensitive area. How it would feel like being _finally_ touched by someone else…  
  
Mumbled words were heard, and Harry was too engulfed with his naughty thoughts about him with a boy he just met to grasp them. "Sorry, what did you say?" Harry asked, snapping his head to look at Niall, who now tried to light his cigarette.  
  
He holds the white butt of the fag between his lips as he gives a roof to it with his hand so wind won't hit it and he'll have to light it all over again. Niall quite struggled due to the heavy sweep of wind that not only extinguished his smoke but also tousled his hair and covered his eyelids.  
  
 "Bloody fucking hell," He cussed, grunting in annoyance and beginning his second attempt. Harry wanted to stand up and go reach for his hat so the curls no longer will disturb his sight. But he refrained from doing that as Niall continued, "Since you asked me, I wanted to know, how it's like to be a writer. I think you told me you write for the paper or summat, yeah? Don't think I ever seen any of you work there. But if I'm frank though, it's not like I'm a writing seeker."  
  
"Oh." Harry licked his lips. "I do poems, mostly. I reckon myself as a bard, not to sound arrogant yeah? Writing isn't as smooth though, when you have to restrain some of your feelings in the works you publish."    
  
"Why's that?" Niall wondered, dragging out his fag and letting the smoke out from his mouth, fading in the frosty hair.  
  
"People keep some secrets, you know." Is all Harry gave him, staring blankly at his lap.  
  
Niall rose on his feet, removing some dust that formed on the fabric of his slacks, shoving his cold palm into its pocket as his free one takes out the cigarette once more but now instead of bringing it back to the seam of his lips, he tosses it on the floor and smashes the remaining orange flares with the sole of his shoe. "Oh, believe me, I know." He vaguely remarked, voice low. Brogue dissolves with his tone.  
  
"Here," his voice sounded again. Harry lifted his head just to see Niall handing him his coat, "you look cold."  
  
And Harry was indeed shuddering. The night is still young but the weather gave the vibe of an early morning. "Thank you," he smiled in acknowledgement, shrugging on the warming fabric.  
  
"Aren't you?"  
  
"What, cold?" Niall laughed shortly as if Harry said something amusing. "I've been through worse than a cold. Anyway, my flat is in this building so if it's an emergency and I really _can't_ stand it, I can go and bring meself a coat." Niall was quite sarcastic and he snickered from his own words, making Harry frown slightly as he begins to overthink about his phrase of 'I've been through worse than a cold.'  
  
He sat himself next to Harry again, closer than before. Harry wiggled in his place, clearing his throat. "What do you mean in 'I've been through worse than a cold'?"  
  
Niall glared down at his hand that cupped his knee. Then he lifted his eyes to observe at the city once again. He gulped rather loudly, his Adam's-apple dancing in his throat.  
  
"I…" He starts off, but he feels like he's going to choke.  
  
He never shared it with anyone, why he came to London from Ireland. How he thought it'd be better here than there, but was utterly wrong, completely fucking wrong. He just wanted to be free, to be himself.  
He couldn’t do that in London either, though. Was he really going to tell to a person he still considers a stranger his life story? It'll be downright pathetic. So how is it that he tempts to tell him everything, tempts to let him know? Why does he feel like he'll understand? He can tell on him and all the time he hid himself will go for waste.  
  
"I don't… think I can tell you?" he stuttered, moving his hand over his face in frustration. "You can tell on me and they'll come to take me."  
  
"Who would come to take you?" Harry swallowed, backing off a bit. "Did you steal something, _murdered_?"  
  
Niall laughed absurdly, all fear washed from hims for the briefest of moments. "I figure they say it's worse than killing someone. I never chose to be the way I am, you see?" he ducked his head down. Voice that once sounded so confident and full now reduced to a vulnerable, weak and dull.

Harry felt like his heart dropped to his pants. He says it all the time. _I never chose to be the way I am._ His poems say it, even if some don't get it;

 _He's caged in the metal barriers of his soul, fighting his way out.  
Trying to establish a new world with only strength and a needle, a world only for himself— a world he could live in peace at.   
  
_ "I honestly, have no idea why I'm telling you this, I really don't. But… basically, I am…gay, homosexual. In Ireland, well, they can kill me. My parents don't know. They can't. They are a very tight Christian piece of shits," he laughs midsentence, grimacing slightly at the mention of his parents. It amazes Harry how he can laugh at almost everything.  "I'm not the greatest story teller, excuse me, okay? I thought that if I'd come to England, then it'd be better, you know? But like a fool I came here, and the situation is pretty much the same. So I must hide, yeah? If the wrong person will know then you know the low, I'm dead. And I'm here sitting as a tosser telling you this, I don't even know you." The last part of his rant he says quietly, but Harry can hear it, and he tries to collect his own power to share too. It's safe now, he reckons.  
  
"I'm gay too," he blurts. He can see how sharply Niall's head turns, his expression looks struck.  
  
"You are," Mumbles Niall.  
  
"Indeed. Yeah," That's absurd, really. This boy had the courage to tell someone he knows barely half a day something that might cost his life and Harry feels like such a coward right now he wants to jump from this damn height and land on the ground harshly enough to numb him. 

"When did you find out, then?"  
  
"Guess I always knew. What about you?"  
  
"First time I was with a girl. When I was sixteen, I'm twenty-five now." He explains. His ocean blue eyes examines Harry's face as he finish to speak. Harry swallows and he tilts his head, catching how the blonde's stare hooked on his lips, watching his gaped lips as respirations coming out to the cold air. "It was horrible," Niall speaks again, shaking his head as he takes his gaze off from Harry, and Harry is in owe. "Utter disaster, thought I was ready. But when I touch her, when I kissed her, I only felt emptiness. Me father always praised it, always said how good it's gonna be, taking a lass's virginity –he's quite sick, that man. When he found out I let her go, he insisted to take me to the brothel, to pick a more adept lady. It was difficult to get me hard. He called me a pussy the moment we got in the vehicle. I almost got mad from how much I tried to deny it, how I'm still leaving in fear. Left home when I was eighteen, just so it won't get worse when he finds out,"  
  
Niall snorted, thinking how pitiful he must sound like. He doesn't want people the view him this way. Harry sighs, uttering the words he'd never thought he would say out loud. "I was in an orphanage since I was an infant, it must seem easier to me. It never was. When I was eight years old I told a boy I liked him. He just laughed at my face. There's not much to my life besides me being a very bleak writer. I've never been with anyone, though."    
  
Niall draws his body closer, his hands shaking and Harry hesitates. He presses their foreheads together. He places his palm on Harry's cheek as thumb caressing light circuits on the skin. Noses bump when Niall inhales and instantly, his lips meet Harry's for a nimble kiss. Just a touch of both pairs of lips, until Niall stands up rapidly, pulling Harry up with him. Harry is a bit overwhelmed. Niall's lips felt so thin but so soft and gentle on his that when the touch no longer lingered and made him feel warm, he actually was dismayed. He didn't have to worry about that, though, because as they both staggered onto their feet, Niall linked their mouths for the second time, just now, it was more firm, more lusting and craving.  
  
He guided him as he holds on his hips, Harry threading his fingers through the natural brunette part of Niall ombré hair as they reach the bleached one. He moans into the kiss and gasps when his back hits a brick wall. Niall's gripping at the back of Harry's thighs with both of his hands, lifting his legs and folding them around his waist. The movement develops a friction between Harry's clothed bulge and Niall's hips. Harry whimpers and he feels as Niall holds him with his arms, carrying him through the door and into the building. It was a valor deed, due to their size differences, leaving Harry's coat and hat tossed on the brick floor of the roof. It was apparent that Harry was bigger. Not much, though. But he was more filled and tall than Niall was. They quickly approached before a door and Niall pushed it open; lips still attached to Harry and left hand trying to keep Harry on him without slipping. Harry supported himself, grasping Niall's nape. They got in and within seconds they plopped on Niall's cushioned cracking bed. His sheets felt like cheap polyester and his flat smelled like vanilla and honey. He along had a very strong scent of musk. Harry loved it, he scented like a man.  
  
Niall began to rut his hips against Harry, peppering open-mouthed kisses over Harry's neck. Harry worked on the buttons of his knitted vest and crisp blouse, tracing his hand over the pale torso of the blond above him. As Harry came to entrap the hem of his trousers with his fingers to bring him closer, Niall grazes his teeth over a sensitive spot on Harry's neck Harry never knew existed. The curly moans and the sound of it echoing in Niall's ear, making him groan.  
  
"Have you ever been with anyone before, Niall?" asks Harry breathlessly while Niall unbuttons his trousers and slides them off his slender legs, leaving him with only briefs and the wings of his shirt sprawled beside his ribs on the duvet.  
  
Niall was too occupied with kissing down Harry's throat and chest to answer in the right time, but when they both were nude and Niall rose back to face Harry, embracing each side of his head with his arms as he propped on his elbows, staring down ant an unsure lad. "Just one person that I slept with," He promises. "It's okay if you don't want to, okay?"        
  
His voice was so soothing and tender Harry wanted to melt with it. Was he really going to have sex with someone he met a few hours ago, to give himself like that? Though he knew that he might not have the chance to be touched by someone else again, and the smallest that he had tasted made him to desire for more.  
  
"No, I'm all right." He mumbles sleepily as Niall's fingers swing his long hair away from his forehead.  
  
Niall takes in the sight of his pretty face; long nose, plump, fleshy lips, jade eyes with hints of grey and long eyelashes garnishing them. Niall's breathe hitches in his throat unexpectedly. "You're so beautiful, Harry. Is anyone ever told you this?"

He shook his head negatively. "Fool people." The blond spitted, Harry breathed heavily placing gently his palm at the back of Niall's neck, bringing him closer.  
  
Niall wisped his nose against Harry's lightly. Inhaling deeply while his eyes were fixed on the younger's lips. He dithered about this. This boy had no experience. Nonetheless he also had met him merely a few hours ago. But god, he was beautiful, and the selfish urge to do this took over Niall's senses.  
  
"Please," Harry implored in a begging tone, his fingers sliding down from Niall's nape to his shoulder blades trying to get him even further. "I want this."  
  
"You don't know me!" Niall shouted frustrated, hitting his palm over the mattress. Harry became paralyzed.  
  
He didn't know what he was doing. He was entirely clueless and ignorant about this though something in his subconscious yelled at him to do this, to make it happen, to fucking let go.  
  
Niall's respirations blew on his nose, hands engulfing his head. "Does it really matter now?" he choked out, lifting his head up so there will be no space between their faces anymore, lips pursing slightly as they brush against Niall's open mouth.  
  
Niall closed his eyes, licking his lips as he backed away for a moment. Harry felt his heart is sinking down to his abdomen and his guts getting ripped, because fuck, someone is rejecting him. For the first time, someone is rejecting him. But as the feeling ate his insides and he closed his eyes to take it all in, he felt big hands grabbing his thighs and bringing him closer as he wraps his calves around the blonde's waist, lips agape.  
  
"It's going to hurt you," warned Niall in a breathless delicate voice, spitting on his palm and stroking his cock lazily against Harry's rim.  
  
"That bad?"  
  
"Quite bad, yeah," he said, feeling his stiffed cock against his palm. "Ready?"  
  
Harry swilled the lump blocking his throat, nodding impatiently as Niall carefully hoisted himself, threading his cock inside of Harry. Harry winced, crying out as Niall was halfway there. The saliva Niall smeared on wasn't enough to make it easy, and the fact that it was Harry's first time was even worse. It felt like someone is burning him, the sensation wasn't so comfortable, not comfortable at all even. Niall let him getting used to the feeling that once, he too experienced. He listened how Harry tried to restrain himself and his noises. His eyes became glossy and red, lips open and cheeks crimson. Niall leaned forward, pressing his lips to Harry's in attempt to calm him down. He never thought his lips will feel as they look; soft as silk, full and inviting.  
  
He began to thrust, deep and slow as Harry moaned silently, claws caressing the skin of Niall's back, sometimes even deepening in when another wave of pain rushed through his body. It felt good, different. But it was so new to him, so foreign. He was so convenient with his dull lifestyle that new exciting things never occurred in his mind.  
He was so deep in his sorrow of being someone who needs to hide constantly, that he forgot there's other things than self-pity in life.  
This boy above him, a man just like him, is managing to somehow stay happy all the time, although his difficulties. Harry really appreciates how he laughs all the time. Well, at least that's all he saw since he met him.  
  
That wasn't much.  
  
Niall held onto Harry's hips, leaving lingering kisses on his chest. Tongue trailing over the flesh, reaching his throat and his chin, moving to press a peck on his cheek as his lips sweeps downwards his earlobe, nibbling. It all went tender, as if they were testing the water.  
Harry only dreamt of being like that with another. Wrote how he desired to feel beloved, even if just for a lonely night with a stranger.  
  
Niall grunted into the crook of Harry's neck as he urged himself in as Harry fisted a group of blond hairs. Clammy hand held tight on his shoulder, squeezing the gaunt flesh as he tilts his head to rest against Niall's, moaning in his ear. Niall wasn't the broadest of men, but his body was sturdy and strong, hips narrow and back extensive. He was in control and it left Harry breathless.  
   
As Niall's pace became a little bit more desperate and fast, and Harry's legs jiggled, heels hitting Niall's cheeks, Harry took it as an advantage to pull him closer.    
Niall's white teeth eroded on the spot where Harry's Adam's-apple sits, forming goose bumps under his skin. When he's no longer that overwhelmed by the scenario happening, he thrusts his arse upwards to give a better angle to Niall, who takes the hint and folds Harry's legs as he brings them into his chest, bodies no longer bound together due to their position, with Niall's hands capturing Harry's calves during his attempt to enter even deeper than he is. He groans and Harry blindly searches for his needy cock. When he finds his lost treasure it's harder than it ever been. A wank never got him that way. He begins to pump himself and feels so abashed that he had managed to come to his release that soon. But it doesn't matter to Niall when he hisses between gritted teeth and frequent grunts,  
  
"C'mon, you can come –fuck—it's alright, do it."  
  
The curly throws his head into the mattress, mouth gaped and eyes remaining shut as his tongue skidding over his lips. Sweat making his hair damp within his working thumb, who now is rubbing over his tip rapidly, cock caged tight in his fist. He comes on his abdomen after a few more strokes, his panting in sync with Niall's hoarse groans and curses.  
  
"Can you like, turn around?" He breathes, voice pleading and forborne.  
  
Harry nods and suddenly, Niall isn't inside of him anymore as he settles on his elbows and swipes his hair away from his face. Niall's hands taking each side of his hips when he enters in again with a loud groan, Harry fists the polyester sheet, biting his lips.  
Niall urges hard, movements more frantic than before. Harry can't help but moan too at the repeating sensation. Another moan leaves Niall's lips when he retreats, he strides to his small bathroom and releases there. You must be careful, anyway.  
  
He comes back, not ashamed of his naked body when he locks eyes with Harry, who definitely was watching him with the blanket surrounding his hips, laying on his side.  
He reaches for his discarded briefs and wears them quickly as he questions Harry, "Did you clean yourself up?"  
  
"Yeah, put some water on me hand and cleaned up."  
  
Niall shakes his head as if he understood Harry, getting under the sheets next to Harry, sighing in contentment as he sits, eyes scanning Harry who lays there with his deer eyes looking at Niall like he's the best thing in the world.  
  
Niall chuckles, "Wanna stay?"  
  
Harry doesn’t utter a word as he closes his eyes. Niall laughs lightly, taking it as a yes.  
  
  
  
 **\-------------  
  
  
** Morning dawned on London's streets, sunshine rays invading into Niall's bedsit and hitting the dilapidated mattress and its white covers. Niall was in the kitchen, two mugs of tea are almost ready to drink. Harry unfurled his eyelids, green eyes meeting the daylight. "What time is it?" he croaked huskily, still sleepy.  
  
Niall turned his head to look at Harry in his bed, smirking. "9pm, are you rushing somewhere?"  
  
It's been over five years since he woke up with someone next to him. It's been over five years he made tea for two in the after morning. He only was with one person he liked and actually slept with. It was late at night when he walked down the streets of London for the first time in his life, there he met Zayn. He smoked a fag against a brick wall, alone. The light from the streetlamp gave him away, and Niall was lost back then with no place to stay in. He asked him if he's got a light, pulling out his own cigarette.  
Zayn nodded, not really caring for the blond as he handed him a lighter absently.  
Zayn gave him a roof to sleep under for half a year. Throughout the time they fell in love, their nights they spent smoking or kissing, even having sex. Niall's love to him was sheer, every cell in his brain was owned by his thoughts about the raven-haired skinny boy he loved so much. Even though Zayn had a hard time to admit how much he loves Niall, they both knew that well enough with no need or any impulse to say it out loud. One day they came to take him, and Niall then knew it was the end of it.  
He will never talk or tell about this to anyone, he'll never say how he came home from the market to find an empty apartment. How his heart got broken and his perspective on life became substandard.  
  
"Nowhere, actually,"  
  
Niall picked up the mugs each in hand, making his way towards the bed.  
  
"Good, made you some tea." He muttered as he settled on the mattress, careful so he won't spill the hot liquid.  
  
"Thank you," Harry spoke, tone muffled as he took the mug from his companion's hands, sniffing the sweet scent.  
  
"Put some honey, so it won't taste bitter, you know. I can make you a new one if you'd like."  
  
Harry looked up at him, icy blue eyes making his breath hitch. "It's okay, I like honey."  
  
"Good."  
  
They finished half an hour of drinking their tea and talking until Harry hands Niall his empty mug and Niall stands up to put it in the sink alongside his own on top of the mucky plates and forks from Niall's previous meals. He really should wash them soon.  
  
"Need a shower? There's hot water just for another twenty minutes." Niall asked, standing idly from his bed, looking at Harry who now turned on his back.  
  
"I can use one, yeah," he shrugs, remembering he's still naked from last night and still sore, reaching down for his briefs from the floor.  
  
Meanwhile, Niall is tugging out a fag and lighting it, sucking smoke inside his lungs as Harry winces a bit and Niall can't help but chortle, puffing out the fumes.  
  
"You smoke?" questions Niall, cigarette wiggles between his lips as he rummages for another to pull from its case.  
  
Harry shakes his head as he says no. Niall raises an eyebrow, smoke abandoning its source and spreads through the air. As a contradiction to Harry's statement Niall takes out a fag anyway and tosses it on the mattress and it lands nearby Harry's thigh. From his sitting position on the edge of it, Harry takes the cigarette and examines it as if it was an alien.  
   
"It's good, relaxing. You better try it," Niall pushes, finishing his own and smashing it into the ashtray.  
  
He scratches his itchy spot on his chest as he turns around, peeling off his briefs and striding his way into his shower, leaving stricken Harry behind. He pops from the door, running his hand through his hair and ruffling it slightly. "You can come, if you want. Reckon it'll save the hot water for both of us and stuff."  
  
This boy is feisty, Harry thinks to himself. He looks at him naïvely, blushing lightly.  
Niall still stands there, expecting blues piercing in the suddenly vulnerable boy.  
Without him comprehending Harry is on his feet, striding his way to the bathroom, watching as Niall's smirking smugly.  
  
Niall has no curtain or glass to his shower. The faucet hanging on the wall and Niall opens the water as its rough flow hits his palm. When he sees the water is good enough he gets under it and Harry notices how the bleached hair becomes an almost darker shade. Harry steps forward, his matted hair smoothing, and Niall finds himself staring at how the drops slide down Harry's broad body. He licks his lips and shamelessly glides his forefinger on Harry's shoulder, then full hand caressing his arm and links their fingers briefly together before he closes the gap between them as his chest is flush against Harry's back, pressing open-mouthed kisses on his neck.  
Harry tilts his head to the side to give Niall better access, and Niall thinks it is mad how he missed touching someone else rather than himself.

  
Harry breathes, biting his lips and nuzzling with his head on Niall's shoulder. Niall holds his hipbone, thumb caressing at the spot. He ducks his head down and his lips brush Harry's as he bring his arm up to grab Niall's neck and Niall smiles before he kisses Harry tenderly. It's quick and quite sloppy because Niall has other ideas.  
  
He shoves Harry and his palms stops the impetus in a sharp move as they land on the cold wall of the shower. Harry moans when Niall spreads his cheeks. He forgets how sore he is still when his wills are taking over him and his logic conscious when he begs for Niall. Niall see black, can't restrain himself when he pushes in rather hard, listening how Harry's cry sounds dimly inside the four walls. He knows they should be cautious about this, to keep an eye on their brutish acts. He wishes they had some solution and they could have sex as much as they wanted. He's clean, he knows that, and Harry certainly never did it before, though there's still some fear in him he wished didn't bother him.  
  
"Harry you sure? I guess you're still hurt from last night aren't ya?" he makes excuses, knows it's stupid because hell, he knows how it feels like and at the beginning it's not the best in the world.  
  
"Yeah, I am, but Niall, God, just… do it." Harry sounds indignant, desperate.  
  
"We need to be careful, you know,"  
  
Harry snaps his head, frowning. "Are you…"  
  
"No, no!" he breathes out, regretting his words. "I'm clean, I swear. It's just, careful okay?"  
  
Harry gulps and nods and turns his head back against the wall as the stream pours on both of them. Niall steadies a hand on Harry's shoulder when he enters, leaving Harry breathless. The water eases up the friction and Harry leans his head on his shoulder, breathing deep inside as Niall begins to move slow, low grunts coming out from his mouth as he peppers light pecks on Harry's spine.  
  
Harry can't believe himself at what he's doing. Having sex with basically a stranger twice isn't his typical routine. But he's doing it anyway, and it feels wonderful.    
  
It's still burning but it's possibly better now when he somewhat used to it. Niall holds him as he pushes with no limits into Harry. Harry tears out a choked moan and closes his eyes as Niall pounds into him. Niall thrusts as he plants light pecks all over Harry's back, the stream pouring on both of them and makes their movements less careful.  
Harry moans, his hand steady on the cold wall of the shower, holding him in place as he buries his nose on his shoulder, breathing deep in as Niall pushes in and out of him, lips grazing over the skin.  
  
Niall growls, the sound echoes in the four small walls of the bathroom. Harry feels ashamed of how much he craves for more. He moans Niall's name as his pace getting faster and he slides his hands down from Harry's hips to grab at his inner thighs, selfishly pulling him closer to him as he rocks his hips into the curly boy.  
  
Harry's agape as he pushes backwards into Niall, and Niall feels how the air ran out from his lungs. Harry feels so good. He kisses down his nape and backbone, moving to his expanse of flesh and shoulder blades, slowly climbing again to graze his teeth on Harry's neck as Harry brings a hand up to grasp at Niall's wet hair, tugging with Niall's thrusts.  
  
"Niall," wails Harry.  
   
"Touch yourself Harry, I'm going to come," he says with no breath, voice husky and worn out.  
  
Harry obeys as shaking hands reaches for his still throbbing cock, pumping up and down rapidly while his eyes are shut, Niall still inside of him, achieving a sensitive spot when he restrains his own needs to let Harry do first. Within a few strokes Harry comes with a satisfied moan into his fist, the water washes if off immediately. Niall keeps on fucking into Harry, and when he feels the pleasuring heat building in the pits of his stomach he pulls out of Harry, cock pulsing as he too, begins to milk the liquid out of his body. He grunts out loud, the sound almost vitriolic in Harry's ears.  
  
He comes on Harry's butt cheeks, panting heavily as his head flops on Harry's shaking body. Nose gliding over the damp skin as his hands brushes his body.

"Only if they knew what we were doing in between those walls," Harry breathes, some amusement plastered on his face as if he was a toddler who didn't listen to his parent and did a wrong antic even if they told him not to.  
  
Niall cackled, "We don't want them to."

                                                                                 ------------------  
  
  
  
A year passed by and Harry and Niall got to know each other better. Harry began to write his own book. He's still writing in the paper though, as a gig. Niall got an offer to show his photos in some gallery in the west end of London. He came home smiling like a maniac.  
  
Harry sat behind his desk at the small flat, head buried in the sheet as he clenches the dip-pen between his fingers, glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose when he heard the door slamming and Niall entered into the house. He picked his eyes from the inked words on the paper for the first time in the last two hours as Niall greets him with a peck on the lips and a wide grin garnishing his pretty face. Niall downfalls on the mattress of their bed, still smiling so big his cheeks must hurt later. Harry looks at him warily, curious about his ardor behavior.  
  
Niall flips on his stomach and puts both of his arms under his head, looking at Harry endearingly. "I got an offer to launch a show of my photos at a gallery in west end of London." He says. His voice is enthusiastic and eyes blown.  
  
"Baby, that's lovely," Harry cheers, standing from the wooden chair and moving next to Niall on the bed, threading through Niall's arm and nuzzling in the touch.  
  
Niall caresses his jawline as eyes scanning Harry's face when he talks, "I just hope people will come," he murmurs and kisses on Harry's soft lips.

  
"I'm sure they will."  
 

As Niall paced in between stores and busy people crossing the street he stopped by a kiosk and bought the paper and a case of cigarettes. It was an early morning, the sun rose to the sky merely two hours ago. Niall loved mornings; the environment was different, there wasn't much traffic and loud noises of people talking and constructors working on a new building to add into the town. There was peace, businesses only just opened and the chilly air gave a comfortable sensation. Niall loved mornings.  
  
He pulled out a fag and lit it through his walk, inhaling the calming substance. He heard someone shouting in his direction. He turned his head and saw a bloke running to his way. The boy detained in his track as he reached a baffled Niall.  
  
"Sorry," he panted. "You may have some smoke?"  
  
Niall hesitated for a moment before he muttered, "Uh, yeah sure."  
  
"Excuse me if I startled you, I just ran out of fags and I'm basically poor,"  
  
Niall looked at him a bit struck by his outburst, but eventually he chuckled and shook his head. "No, it's okay, really, don't worry." He babbled as he took out a couple of cigarettes rather than one.  
  
The stranger looked at in owe, "thank you mate,"  
  
"No problem." Niall nodded, turning around and ready to continue in his path but the boy stopped him once again.  
  
"I'm… I'm Liam," the boy, who now Niall knows name is Liam stepped forward, introducing himself as his hand hanged waiting in the air.  
  
"Niall," Niall takes it and they shake hands.  
  
Liam scratches his itchy nose and rambles something nonsensical to himself. Niall's patience is growing thin.  
  
"They tracked you. You and your partner," he blurts finally, Niall is still confused by all of this but he feels like someone skins him with a knife at the bloke's words.  
  
"Excuse me?" Niall's tone is panicked.  
  
What the fuck.

"The government, they saw something suspicious about your boy. They began to follow him three months ago."  
  
"And how in bloody hell do _you_ know?"  
  
"I just know. I beg you not to tell anyone I told you, please."  
  
Niall fixes his newsboy hat, heart beating fast in his chest as he's turning on his heel without saying a word, deserting the poor lad that supplied this disturbing information to him as he drags the smoke from the cigarette and walks away. He always wished be he could live in peace, always wanted to be enough comfortable with who he is and wanted people to accept it. He wanted to love again without any fear. Though apparently, his wishes were never answered.

  
  
                        **\----------------  
            
  
** All the way back to his flat, the thoughts about what the scurfy lad had told him hunted his mind. He already formulated a plan, though. And he prayed it'll work.

  
The flat smells like sweet rice as Niall enters in. He tosses his coat on the chair behind the desk that somewhat, became Harry's. With his already written sheets lying neatly in a stack by the edge of the table and another sprawled all over, halfway inked with the dip-pen resting on top of it from last night, when he finally got defeated by his sleep and climbed into bed, taking Niall's numb-from-sleep hand and surrounded his waist with it, drifting to sleep rather quickly. Discarding his hat, this time on the bed, Niall took a glance in Harry, who only wore his briefs, hair messy from sleep, stirring the dollop in the pot. Niall strode his way near him, planting kisses on Harry's shoulder.  
  
"I brought the paper," he said, looking at Harry's concentrated face.  
  
"Okay, something new?" Harry retorts, shutting off the gas.  
  
Harry reached out in attempt to grab a bowl from the clean dishes, but Niall stopped him, holding his wrist and lowering it down. He turned Harry's body so he'd face him.  
  
"Not really," he murmured absently as he lifts Harry's legs by his thighs. Harry gasps and aids himself with a hand on Niall's shoulder, capturing Niall's waist with his long slender legs.  
  
He's used to that, is the thing. Niall constantly trying to take the lead, be in control. Maybe it was because Harry's quite sensitive, if he's honest. It was funny, really. Because when it came to sizes, Harry was the bigger. Niall's body was lean and shape compressed. He made it work, though, somehow. His personality gave the vibe of strength and he was more open-minded than Harry, carefree. Dared more than him and almost didn't fear about what people would think, besides his sexuality. Harry envied all of that, but he knew he completes him with his more restrained and kept nature. That's perhaps why they work so well.  
  
They landed on the bed with a rather sharp plop; Harry on top of Niall, straddling his lap. Harry's head was buried in the crook of Niall's neck, inhaling his familiar scent as Niall looms his fingers through Harry's thick hair, rubbing his thumb over his crown. Harry lifted his head as his nose bumps into Niall's and he leans down to press their lips together. Niall insists for it to linger, like he doesn't want Harry to ever leave him, which was true enough. His tongue searching for a way in, licking Harry's seam in a cue to let him know it wants to invade his mouth and collide with another.  
  
They kiss lazily like that for almost ten minutes until Harry retreats, leaving Niall with pursed lips. Niall snapped his eyes open, pleading for Harry to come back.  
  
"Are you okay?" asks Harry instead and Niall frowns, gulping the lump in his throat.  
  
"Yes love, I am, why?" he manages of it to come nonchalant.  
  
Harry shakes his head, "Nothing, just worried about you."  
  
Niall argues he doesn't need to worry about him and brings Harry into an embrace once again, big hand holding onto his skull firmly so he'd stay there. He kisses Harry's temple, breathing in.  
  
"I love you," he croaks in an almost unheard whisper, anxious to what's going to come next.  
  
 **  
\-----------------  
  
  
** Two days. He hasn't slept in two bloody days. Forty-eight hours with forced, failed attempts to rest went by. He thought it'd be better if he will enliven his plan now rather than later and it'll all be lost for both of them.  
  
He pulled a dusty briefcase out from under his bed, tossing it over the bad as he let out a big breath. He stared at it for a few good minutes before he had begun to unfasten it and shove in Harry's clothes. He had to do that, he couldn't risk him and let him end up just like him; broken-hearted and scarred for life. So it'd be better if he'll leave as far and fast as he could. But Niall, he did just the same without even being aware of it. All he wanted was the best for Harry, the man he loves.

When Harry entered the flat he felt like his heart sunk down to the floor. "Niall… what are you doing?" his voice came out rushed and breathless as he discarded his bag onto the floor in panic.  
  
Niall was in an utter frenzy, panting when Harry held onto his bicep fiercely. He cupped his jaw and demanded that he'll look up at him. The blond never complied and Harry tightened his grip at the boy, compelling his head up. "Niall…"  
  
"You need to go Harry, you need to leave," Uttered Niall as he pushed Harry away from him and continued on packing.  
  
"I'm not going anywhere!" Harry hollered, trying to rob away the briefcase full of his stuff from Niall's grip. When he looked over briefly to the desk, all of his work was still on there.  
  
The older fought the younger, savagely ripping the object from Harry's grasp and placing it next to the door. Harry's guts flipped in his stomach. He felt sick. He wanted to vomit and wanted to know what was going on here. Wanted to know why Niall was behaving that way.  
 

"What is happening Niall, baby please tell me?"  He begged, standing hopelessly by the leg of the bed.  
  
Niall strode in a rush towards Harry, inhaling air into his lungs and exhaling as he tried to relax himself. Niall fixed Harry's bowtie and smoothed his crisp suit, taking a last glance and this beautiful boy of his. He wished for his life that one day, he'll see him again.  
  
"You're going, Harry. And you better not fucking argue with me about that. I'm only pleading you to trust me." Dithering for the longest five minutes he'd ever experienced, Harry's deathly glare met Niall's eyes whose now, were squinted, giving his baby blue eyes a delusion of a darker shade.  
  
"I love you." He blurts in the most forgettable voice Niall's ever heard.  
  
"Gosh, Harry. I wished you really knew how much you mean to me and that my love to anybody else was never as big as my love to you. And more than that I wish you could stay, but you can't."    
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's impossible. You'll understand later, okay love?" he failed to reassure Harry as his heart was beating so fast he reckoned he might faint. His hand shot backwards to pry in his trousers' pocket. He tugged out two similar gold rings, breathing in as his fingers played with them apprehensively.  
  
"These," he starts again, eyes daring to look up at Harry's deterred expression. "These promise _us_ that we belong together. It's a significant thing for me, and I want you to keep one, just to remember me. I bought them two days ago," His voice is shaky. And Harry knows he wants to cry out. He knows too, that he never will. Not in front of Harry at least. But Harry gives up and his eyes become glossy. He curses himself and the big fucking pussy he is.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Harry questions between fragmented inhales as Niall is threading the ring over his finger and kisses his hand before he looks up at him again.  
  
"To protect you," he retorts as he slips his own ring on his finger, picking his gaze up to Harry.  
  
"I don't need any protection Niall, I'm my own man."  
  
"I know that," Niall breathes. "And that's why I know you'll be fine without me,"  
  
"Niall, please," the curly already feels defeated. Niall's too stubborn.  
  
Niall just kisses him. It's never tender but it's loving and thorough. Their brows are knitted in a frown and noses fight against each other. Niall licks into Harry's mouth and Harry moans lightly into the kiss. "Fuck me Niall," Harry pleads as his hands trails down Niall's white crisp blouse and unfastens his fly. But Niall stops him; assertive hand squeezes tightly the other as he sweeps Harry's arm away.  
  
"No," he says in a hoarse tone, pulling at Harry's hair and kisses him again. "No."  
  
He pecks the corner of Harry's mouth as he drags him to the door, unlocking it and before he opens it, he comes back to rummage at the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out some quid. "That'll use for a train ticket, that's all I have. Promise me you'll go as far as you can, yeah?"   
  
Harry's too overwhelmed to say a word. It all went too fast for him to comprehend. Niall sighs as he stuffs the money into Harry's palm and folds it, squeezing the fist he formed from Harry's hand as he bends down to pick the briefcase, shoving it into Harry's chest and out of the flat that used to be theirs for the past half a year. One last time he kisses Harry quickly and hugs him so tight they both can't breathe. 

"I love you baby, so fucking much. Be safe."  
  
He slams the door reluctantly on Harry's face. So wroth on himself and full of hatred to those vicious people who doesn't let him be himself and hunts his dreams. Niall's back erodes on the wooden door as he slides down from his to feet the floor with miserable howls tearing out of his trembling lips. He misses the sound of his voice already.  
  
Harry stands in the street in front of the flat's door like a lost puppy caught in the rain.  
He left his work inside. The love of his life let him go.   
  
He glances down on his hand, spotting the gold ring Niall gave him decorating his fingers. It shakes, his hand, and his stomach seethes with ire. The thought about the thing he feared the most fluttered messily in his mind. And he guessed, all Niall wanted to do was protect him, as he said. He wanted him to come along, be with him for the rest of his life. Though he knows, he knows Niall won't forgive him if he won't make his way to the train tonight.  
  
  
 **\----------------  
  
  
** Niall spent his sleepless nights reading Harry's sheets. This boy is talented. The thought of him only makes his absence stronger to feel. Niall is missing him.  
  
Stubble formed once again on Niall's face, only mustache hairs blossomed on his face too, now. When he shaved one morning with overly raging movements as the reminding sound of Harry moaning his name echoed in his ears, he accidently cut himself right under his nostrils. Blood dripped onto the white rusty sink in his minimal bathroom. He cussed, dropping the metal razor as it falls on the ceramic, making a horrible jarring noise. He looks in the mirror with his bleeding face, eyes bloodshot from the lack of sleep. He seemed paler than ever, his lips chapped and coarse. To say he loathed himself was an understatement nowadays. He tried to save Harry but within it he was killing himself with sorrow –slow and torturing.  
  
It was 4am on a Sunday morning when they caught him. They barged into his house with their bloody heinous uniforms that tells you who they are. He jumped out of bed when they talked in their malicious tones. "Are you alone?"  
  
Niall gulped. "Yes,"  
  
"Was there anyone else beside you in here in the last week?"  
  
"No." he lied shamelessly.  
  
He watched carefully as one of them touched Harry's work, reading it and then crumples it in his hand and tossing it into the rubbish bin, missing. Niall is on his feet and before any of them notice his fist strikes the officer's jaw as he falls on the ground, wincing. "Don't fucking touch it!" he yells, feeling his heart creasing in his chest.  
  
"Where is he?" the other demands firmly, Niall refuses to answer. "Where the fuck is he?" he repeats.  
  
"Who," Niall says, knowing exactly.

"Your little fucking boyfriend, where is he?"  
  
Before Niall retorts, frustrated, he bites his lips.  
  
"I don't know, I don't fucking know."  
  
One of them takes Niall's hands and cuffs him, murmuring, "We'll have to take you instead, then."  
  
From that moment, there was no going back.  
  
  
 **10 th November, 1964.  
  
  
**Niall was sitting on his flat mattress in his cell, listening to the silence and staring at the gold ring on his finger. It was on his hand since he first dreamt of this boy. It was strange, really. It made him mad, thinking how it had just appeared there one morning.  
  
As he caressed his thumb on the cold material, he decided he couldn’t see this ring anymore. From some reason, even if he wanted to take it off he had no guts to actually do that. He bravely slid it off his finger, wiggling it between his thumb and forefinger, rage building in him.  
  
"Stupid fucking ring!!" he screams as he tosses it rather hard, the veins on his neck are visible and sharp. It hits the wall and lands under the second bed in this room that once belonged to Zayn Malik, a heavy drug dealer. They were good mates until he got released after two years.  
  
He was a forger and thief, Niall. He didn’t have a decent reason to why he did it but he was good at it and as a benefit of his skillful nature he became rich out of the blue. He loved it, the rush of stealing something. He mainly did with famous paintings that worth more than his life probably, restorting the exact paiting and saling it in the black market. They put him in durance for seven years for that after they found him in Italy.  
  
He runs his hand through his bleached hair and tugs anxiously, lifting on his feet and bending down to search for the ring again. He didn't know why he had to find it and shove it into his orange uniform's pocket. It was instinct to have it in his possession. He sat back on his bed. He's used the cracking sound it makes, even when he flips over during his sleep.  
  
Niall rubs his calloused palms over his tired face and groans as if he's disgruntled. He truly feels like he is. He takes in a big breath and as he does, the metal door of his cell swings open in a loud grating noise. Into the room entered a bloke with matted thick long ringlets –the ones he saw in his dreams. The boy in his nightmares had no face, it was blank and only his curls gave him away. He never talked, but his hand constantly tried to reach and grab Niall's without any success, he had the same ring as Niall's on his finger. Every night it was the same.  
  
He was followed by Liam, one of the minders in this wing of the quod. He shoved the boy inside of the cell forcefully, his wrists secured with handcuffs. Niall gazed his face. He was pretty; with his forest green eyes, pink full lips and sharp jaw that contradicts his baby-like face. He licked his lips, chuckling brutally as Liam released his cuffed hands and shoved him further inside, his hair sweeps to many directions within the deed. "Horan, your new roommate," he said, nodding towards the boy with the curls.  
  
He looked around the space right after Liam shut the door with a knowing nod to Niall. The new lad slumped on the bed, wincing as his arse hit the stiff and subtle mattress. "So, Horan, what you did that you had the honor to be caged in a prison?"  
  
Niall rolled his eyes and groaned as he flop his head onto the pillow. "It's Niall," he retorts instead, his tone enraged.  
  
"Harry."

They end up their conversation like that, Niall falling asleep after an hour of staring at the ceiling with one hand under his head and the other numb on his stomach.  
  
  
  
               **\-----------------  
  
**

 **  
**A bloody fucking week he had to tolerate Harry's snoring, not to talk about that this dude is napping and even then, Niall stays quiet. Thank God for gifting him patience.  
  
But one night, when it's already 2am and he had a busy day in his duty at the laundry room and two hours of English class that got the best of him, any kind of noises can drive him fucking mad. He had to sit next to him in English. The boy was good at it.  
  
At first, he tossed his pillow at him, the creature never even flinched. For the second time he rose off from the rusty rigid bed, striding enraged towards the bed at the other side of the small room. He kicked at the bed's leg, making it stagger. Harry flipped to the other side and fell onto the ground as Niall backed away, stifling a snicker.  
  
Harry cussed and moaned in annoyance. "What the fuck man?" he called out loud with his hands on his face.  
  
Irritated, he stood back on his feet, shoving Niall abruptly and he stumbles. Niall's fists clenched, pushing him back, shouting "You're snoring like a bloody ogre!"  
  
"An ogre," Harry murmured angrily as if he's offended.  
  
"Yeah," he says unabashed, and with that, a fist shoots to Niall's jaw.  
  
"You a sick lad," Niall hissed as he touched his sore spot. He tried to inhale and restrain himself but he's too selfish to surrender just yet, he's never a pushover.  
  
So he takes the lead in this dimwitted fray and bawls when Harry says, "That's why I'm here, right?" as he kicks his knee –the bad one—into Harry's crotch and he grimace in pain.  
  
Harry attempts to ward off the blond as he pushes him again, both falling roughly on the mattress and Harry's groaning. Each of the slender legs of Niall captures Harry. He's paralyzed now, with his hands on the mattress and Niall holding them tight enough to bridle him. The only thing he can do now his butt his own head on Niall's but when he aims, Niall is enough rapid to withdraw with a snigger and a snort.  
  
"You wish."  
  
"Bugger," hoot Harry.  
  
It only makes Niall laugh out loud, "I've heard worse in me life."  
  
There was stillness for a few minutes as Niall's blue eyes drifted away to look at his hands engulfing Harry's wrists. His long fingers were awry and palm massive. He had a cross tattoo on the right one. Something shone in the darkness, and Niall narrowed his eyelids to look better. He elevated Harry's hand in front of his face, examining without Harry fighting back. He pulled out from his pocket the abhorrent ring and compared it to the one on Harry's finger. _They were the same._  
  
Niall's breath catches in his throat when he realizes, rummaging at his back pocket and threading the ring back on his own hand. "Where did you get this ring from, Harry?" he wondered, alarmed.  
  
"What?" asked Harry in confusion as he was leering slightly, watching Niall's horrified face; his brows furrowed.  
  
"The fucking ring, man," pushes Niall, short-tempered.  
  
Harry looks at it, gulping. "I don't know, one morning it appeared on, thought it was pretty so I kept it on without any much questions."

"Odd," mumbled Niall, life is a bastard. He climbed off from Harry's lap and settled next to him on the measly thing they called bed. He looked at Harry briskly and licked his lips, placing his palms on his abdomen. "Oh bloody hell, it's all a mess, but I reckon I dreamt about you a lot during the past half a year."  
  
It all sounded like an even more nonsense as he spoke the words and let them break free to the air. He sighed and conveyed his hand through his bleached hair anxiously then bringing it back to rub at his face. He was tired, it was too late and he has a kitchen duty tomorrow.  
  
Instead of panicking, much like Niall did, (because hell, he knows him for only a week.) Harry turned to rest on his side, facing Niall's profile. "What do you mean?" he inquired, intrigued.  
  
Surprised, Niall turned his head to look at Harry, and hell if he wasn't the prettiest boy Niall had ever seen. Harry's attitude took him off guard. "I had this dream for almost half a year about a lad with curls; he had no face but he wore the same ring as you are and after the first time I had that dream, this," he gestures to the ring on his hand, "popped out of nowhere. It stopped the night you arrived."

"Maybe it's fate," blurted Harry, expression earnest.  
  
"I'm not kidding," Niall said even though Harry's face. Harry can be a real actor, he barely knows him.

Niall furrowed his eyebrows, glaring at his companion.  
  
"Me neither."  
  
And at that Niall felt something in his guts he had never experienced. Not even with the birds he once thought he loved he felt that way. He had an unexplained desire to lunge and kiss him, hungry for the touch of those lips on his. With a nerve he propped on his elbow and leaned closer, breathing in when his face were too close to Harry's. He had no hesitations about this, though he only kissed a single man before. It was good, but not as he had imagined. Within seconds their lips met. Harry instinctively shut his eyes and went on with it, palming Niall's ear as Niall moved closer, settling his arm above Harry's shoulder. He slips his tongue inside when Harry gives him an easy access with a moan, groaning himself and cussing internally at how good it feels, like he craved to do this all his life and now it's happening, _finally_.  
  
He gets in between Harry's legs and Harry's fingers tangle in his short hair when he begins to rut his hips on Harry. Their lips disconnect in a noisy pop and Niall transfers to press light kisses on Harry's neck, biting on the flesh and tugging it as it's trapped between his teeth. He then lowered down and kissed on Harry's clothed torso, opening the buttons after every kiss and when he reaches to his happy trail he pushes the white fabric he wore beneath upwards to lick at it and plant another buss.  
He quickly unfastens Harry's trousers and slides it off his legs, throwing it on the floor and then he gets rid of his own orange blouse, leaving him with the basic white one.

Harry's cock is in his mouth in seconds, swirls his tongue around the tip and hollowing his cheeks as he lifted Harry's leg onto his shoulder. That he learned from the many heads he got from girls in his life, most of them were good at sucking a dick. He buries his face in Harry's inner thigh, teasing with his teeth and tongue. Harry moans as his hands shoots to Niall's blond hair again, pulling. "Back on my cock," he slurred out, voice exigent.  
  
"Shut the fuck up," Was all Niall's retort as his hand began to play with Harry's balls to provoke him further.  
  
Harry never uttered a word again, only moaning and whimpering. Niall chuckled and licked at his shaft after he spoke, snickering. "For a criminal, you're quite the softy in bed."  
  
Niall's deed didn't let him even breathe, so to say something back was the least of his worries. He bucks his hips up but Niall holds onto his hip sternly, imploring, "Don't you dare."  
  
"Niall," moaned Harry in annoyance.  
  
"Don’t you fucking dare," he repeated, stroking Harry's cock as he stuffed it into his mouth once again.  
  
He feels how hard his own dick is and he starts to rut his hips on the mattress, grunting around Harry and the curly moans he's close. Niall sucked harder, swallowing. Harry came inside of his mouth and the liquid goes down his throat.  
Harry sighs in relief, watching how Niall's head is buried into the mattress and fist clenches the sheet as he fucks into it, groaning out loud, not carrying about the other thugs hearing him, nor the minders. The sight gives Harry another wave of heat in the pits of his stomach and he watches without blinking. Niall feels his orgasm getting to him and he comes into his trousers, cussing and breathing out heavily.  
  
He stays there for a few minutes until he jumps off the bed and knocks on the metal door of the cell, calling Liam's name to come over. Harry's quick to dress back and ruffle his hair to a better state so it won't look like someone just sucked him off.  
  
Liam opens the cell with his key and peeks inside. "Can you bring me some new pants Payno? Got them wet,"

Liam's eyes were blown and he stared down on Niall's indeed wet trousers. Liam was well known with Niall and through the five years Niall is carrying his sentence, they became familiar and good with each other, you may even call them mates. Niall was pretty much harmless. He wasn't mental or something, only short-tempered with some anger issues and a thief who's in process of learning his lesson.  
  
"You pissed yourself?" his voice came out startled and Niall tried not to laugh.  
  
"Uh, yeah, peed meself, sure." he lied nonchalantly and Liam sent him a look.  
  
As Liam locked back the door to go and bring Niall a new pair of pants, Louis Tomlinson, Zayn's partner who got more years than him due to other things he did, shouted from behind his own cell door, his annoying chirping voice coming out from the barriers.   
  
"Faggot,"  
  
He, was mental. "Shut your mouth you bloody cunt!" Niall bit back, shaking his head and lying back on his bed, winking Harry who just cackled quietly.  
  
  
              **  
                                                                                              -----------------**

 **  
  
**It was a sunny bright day and the inmates were out. Some lying on the grass and some are playing basketball on the court. Niall was one of them; he was wearing a white tee and his orange uniform's breeches. His forehead sweaty and hair looking damp as the wind blows and ruffles it. His muscles flexed as he ran and dribbled the stiff ball, tossing it towards another bloke from his team. Harry put parts of his hair into a tiny ponytail and made his way from under the tree into the court with his hands tucked into his pockets, brows knitted from the burning sunshine's rays. He settled on the ground, concentrating on the slim yet muscular blond as he now made a score to the team and a few lads fisted him briefly before they went back on their game. He winked at Harry when he spotted him sitting and watching. Harry tried his hardest not to blush. He wasn't that much of a sappy boy. He did some wrong things in life and hurt more people than he should have.  
  
It only happened yesterday, when they got off together. Liam entered the cell with a clean pair of pants for Niall, looking at him weirdly as Niall chuckled and called him a virgin tosser before he left. Harry tried his best not to watch him change. He had no briefs on which made it rougher. His arse was angular and clean. As he got back onto the bed with a sigh Harry had to take his gaze off, licking his lips and look at the grey wall beside him sheepishly.

"I know you watched me, Harry," murmured Niall, amused. A dimple appeared on his left cheek as he smiled. "'S okay, not like I didn't suck you off right now and came in front of you, I don't mind."  
  
Harry didn't say a word as Niall slipped under the covers and went to sleep contented, leaving Harry very much confused about his words about the dream, because he had it too.  
  
Niall quitted the game as he strode towards Harry, sitting on the ground and leaning against the bars. "Hi," he greeted.  
  
"Hey," Harry replied, turning his head to place a peck on Niall's lips naïvely but Niall retreated with his head.  
  
"What the fuck?" Niall called out, sniggering as he unclasped the lid of his water bottle and chugged from it, expression questioning.  
  
"I thought we-"  
  
"We just hooked up, Harry, that's all. It's been a while since I had it properly you know. I did it with my previous cellmate too." He says looking unbothered as he shrugs, pulling out a fag and sticking it between his lips tightly as he searches for a lighter in his pocket, having to try at least three times before he succeeds and the flames are burning orange. "I'm no queer, mate. Fancy birds,"  
  
Harry's heart drops to the floor and shatters into pieces, quite literally. He's such a pussy.   
  
"Want some?" Niall asks, handing Harry the lit cigarette as if he didn't say anything significant right now which for him, really wasn't.  
  
He still wore the ring, though. So did Harry.  
  
Harry shook his head as he glared at Niall; puffing out the smoke as his eyes were narrowed and brows shaped into a frown from the sun as he looked at Harry.  
  
He stood up abruptly as Niall's eyes followed him "Where are you going?" Niall sounded surprised. Shrugging after Harry rejected his cigarette.  
  
"Back to the cell," he shouted, telling a minder to lead him there.

  
                                                                                                                        **\----------------  
  
  
** Niall entered the cell. The slam and the clicking sound of keys locking the cell once again were the only voice in the silence. Niall sighed, the odor of his cigarette smoke fetid the room's aura. He glanced at Harry playing with the ring and staring at it fiercely. He hesitated to sit down next to Harry on the bed, but eventually he did, chattering his words out.  
  
"What I said about the dream and all was true," he begun, "and my intentions with what I had told you earlier weren't about to hurt you."  
  
Harry tilted his head to the side to see Niall with his head ducked down and eyes on the floor, fingers locked together. He sounded sincere. Green eyes combing Niall's profile; he had a piercing in his left ear and a tattoo behind it. It was a small hollow clover, its frame was black. His nose the right size to his face, a few freckles appeared on and his cheeks radiated a habitual crimson. Lips so thin and teeth straight Harry was almost sure he had braces when he was younger. The most beautiful thing Harry spotted in him was his mesmerizing blue icy eyes. When he gazed right back at Harry he sensed like his breath was stolen from his lungs. And the odd thing is, that he almost certainly knew he saw him before in his life, he knew he knows him better than he realizes. But he can’t put his fingers on where or when he saw him and how and why he feels so close to him. It's mad honestly. He got his punishment only a week ago. That is when he became his cellmate. The moment he saw his face something in his stomach switched and relief washed over. That weird fucking dream he had, just like the one Niall reveled he had too but only the boy in his own dream had a blond hair, just like Niall's. It made him think a lot. He was known as the infamous  
overthinking kind of person.  
  
It's like they knew each other in their other life.  
  
"I just feel close to you, from some reason I cannot comprehend, Niall. It wasn't last night that made me mull that way. It was since the second my feet stepped into this room and I saw you. It's bloody quaint and I can't bring myself to know exactly why."  
  
Niall breathed in deeply, sneaking a glance at Harry.  "I understand you, I really do. But I don't think I can do this with you,"

Emptiness fills him as he utters the phrase out loud. He can try, but he doesn't believe he would manage. All his life he'd been with women, fucked them, loved them and treated them the best he could. The awareness of the feeling it never felt actually right constantly dawned on him, though he shrugged it off and kept with his life. He always felt like he was betraying something –someone—when he met a girl in Paris or Denmark and took her to a fancy restaurant and brought her back to his suite and fucked her brains out. The feeling after was never a sheer contentment. Yesterday, when he touched Harry, somehow he was glad he did it. It wasn't like that with Zayn who gave him a blowjobs and he repaid with a hand job just because it's been ages since they shagged someone. Even their hand became dire to use. He thoroughly had a good perception about what happened in the room they were sitting at on this very bed, but he just couldn't.

Harry nodded, swallowing hard with the process and placing the ring next to his cushion. Niall took a big breath as he lifted back on his feet and strode his way lazily to the other corner of the small cell.  
  
  
  
                                                                                                                              **\-----------------  
  
  
** Three weeks went by and it was difficult for Niall and Harry not to talk considering the fact that they lived at the same cell. Niall made sure they won't encounter much out of the room as well. During lunch he settled at the end of the big table while Harry was sitting somewhere in the middle amongst thugs with enormous biceps and clenched jaws. At the room they played Chess quietly with no eye contacts and trading no words or cheers whenever the other won.  
  
Today they both had a laundry duty at the same hour. Hence Niall couldn't curse his life more than he did. He was picking out clothes as he treaded across the floor, muted and deep in his thoughts as he shoved the fabrics into the laundry machine and Harry put the wet ones in the tumble dryer. Niall poured the washing powder into the machine, slamming the door quite forcefully as it made it stir in its place. When he tried to turn it on and failed miserably for five goddamn times he boot the object as he resented and shouted in frustration.

Harry snapped his head to see what had occurred next to him, folding a cloth as his eyes scanned the sullen boy. He sighed and discarded the shirt he was holding onto the surface of the table. He made his way across the room to the machine and breathed out, reaching for the buttons and twirling it, choosing to press on the high water level as it quickly begins to make the obnoxious loud noise.  
  
Harry backs away and by accident stumbles into Niall. Niall instinctively places his hand on Harry's hip to balance him out but when he realizes he lets go like the blowing wind adrift away. Harry turns on his heel and his face almost bumps in Niall's. He winds in his spot when he tries to find a way out, clearing his throat with his head down, his only view is their soiled boots. Niall soon prevents him from going as he holds onto his shoulder and when Harry stays still, glides his palm over to his neck and up to cup at his jaw. As his thumb began to caress Harry's portly cheeks, a wave of familiarity washed over him. He had a hunch like he did it numerous times before. He swallowed, forehead propping forward onto Harry's but they never touch. Niall licks his lips as his eyes are gazing down on Harry's luscious lips. As he hesitate their noses brush, they both inhale air into their lungs. He makes it through the battles in his mind as he lunges finally, and kisses him.  
  
Harry moans into Niall's mouth as he sucks, tightening his grip of the strands on Niall's head. Niall pushes him backwards and against the resenting laundry machine. Harry gasps as his back hits it and instinctively his hand shoots to grab at its trembling surface to steady his body. Niall holds on his hip as the other remains on his jaw strongly. Niall's hand slides down to fist Harry's right cheek, squeezing it and within the process he's bringing Harry's leg to surround his waist as he's rutting his hips on him. Harry whimpers and shudders slightly when the blond moves to the sensitive spot under his ear and he nibbles there.  
  
"Don't be a feeble, Harry. I already was when I decided to kiss you." He murmurs against the skin. Harry's knees weakening and he's thankful one of them is around Niall's waist and he's pressed against something.  
  
"Niall, c'mon," begged Harry, thrusting his hips forward to give Niall the hint.  
  
Niall chuckled, staring at Harry leeringly, "Easy lad, thought you were tougher."  
  
"I like to get what I want right away after I ask for it,"  
  
"And I like it slower, taunting. Reckon we're going in my way now, aren't we?"    
His voice was low, teasing. Harry loved when people controlled him, having someone to tell him how to do things right. Only that's maybe why certain people screwed him over and he ended up here, in this nick.  
  
Niall's lips press on Harry's as he slides his hand underneath the hem of Harry's trousers, unbuttoning them and palming Harry through the fabric of his briefs. Harry moans as Niall squeezes and rubs his thumb over. Niall's cock stiffs in his pants. The feeling is quite inconvenient and he recedes to get rid of the confining cloth. Once he's left bottomless he's quick to lower Harry's down to his knees as it sweeps the briefs down as well.  
  
Niall breathes and cusses internally as he observes Harry's face. He's already flushed and lips swollen red all Niall can think about is having them around his cock, but he settles on leaning in and kissing on Harry's lips longingly and as Harry wraps his arms around Niall's neck, the blond cups both of their cocks into his fist and begins to stroke. It's a bit dry so he must spit on his palm and when it's damp enough he brings their cocks together once again. Niall grunts as the sound echo in the massive laundry room and it makes Harry grip tighter at his hair as his mouth agape and he too, makes relished noises. Niall nibbles at his earlobe and kisses down his neck, twisting his head to lick on his throat and pepper open-mouthed kisses there.  
  
The wet sound of Niall working on both cocks together resonant in the empty room and Niall grunts reservedly onto Harry's tattooed collarbones after he kisses on a certain spot. Harry's hand glides town as it battles with Niall's on gripping them both. "Niall let me do this," breathlessly, Harry states.  
  
Niall protests and bawls at him to let go when he begins to stroke faster than he intended due to his annoyance. He cannot not be in control it is his selfish nature. "Harry, enough," he remarks firmly, his voice trembling as he speaks.  
  
"I want to please you." Pleaded Harry, his head bowed down as his forehead rests atop of Niall's crown of head.  
  
Niall picks his head up and their faces brush together. His hand paralyzed around them both. One look in Harry's green eyes dragoons him to release his grasp and hand the control towards Harry as he breathes in defeated, cursing out the bloke with the matted thick curly brown hair who came out of nowhere into his cell and invaded his life. Not only but turned it upside down in less than a month.  
  
As Harry takes them into his hand Niall mutters, "Slow," and Harry nods knowingly.

Niall had the audacity to come first all over the hem of Harry's uniform's blouse. He eyes glued strictly on Harry's euphoric visage; mouth wide open, eyes shut and brows knitted together as he fucks into Niall's fist. He comes then with a loud groan square into Niall's fist. His releasing sullies Niall's clothes and Niall mutters slurs, grousing as he cocks his head hastily to either side in a search for anything he can clean himself up with. He beckons Harry to help him fasten his trousers and Harry obliges. At last he finds what he wished for and as he wipes his hand with a tissue, paddling his way across the room and tossing the grimy thing into the rubbish bin. He looks at Harry, trying to rein his smirk as he approaches the boy with the tousled long hair, holds onto his hips and leans in to plant a light kiss on his neck, giving up to his own smug grin.  
  
He stared down on his and Harry's stained clothes as he spoke. "Lucky we're in a laundry room, eh?"  
  
 

                                                                                                                                    **\-----------------  
  
  
** It's been five months, and during them Niall and Harry tried to be as subtle as they could manage. They did sit together in any of the meal breaks. Harry did came to the basketball court _just_ to watch Niall play and have perverted thoughts about him as he passed the ball and his skin looked glossy due to sweat. They slept together on Niall's bed; Harry sneaking in at night, kissing on Niall's neck and falling asleep with Niall's arms surrounding him. Sometimes it even led to a different thing than sleeping in each other's arms.  
  
There was an unknown familiar sensation. Like it always felt as they were around each other, actually. Every time they took a glance at each other, touched briefly or merely kissed and fucked, it was like they've done it plenty of times before. Harry questioned it once or twice, but he never mentioned it out loud. He also had the nauseas feeling that this thing between them is never gonna end with a fairytale happy ending, not only because the fact they were in jail. And he was right. Because after Niall had a conversation with his lawyer, they announced Niall he had to be on court for a sentence, possibly giving him clemency and sending him to a house arrest.  
  
He paced around the room anxiously with a cigarette stuck in between his fingers as he breathed in the smoky air, thumbnail itching and digging at his forehead. He wore a dressed white blouse and trousers, never in his mind to add its suit's blazer on. His brain felt like a half-eaten rotten peach. He couldn't think straight, he barely could think at all. He was nervous. His head was divergent. In one hand he wanted a way out, to sod off from this ratty place as quick as he could. But in the other hand, here, he had Harry, and as long as he was next to him then he won't be as devastated as he thought he'd be if his clemency would be rejected.  
  
"Come here," he motions with his head to Harry, who was sitting silently on Niall's bed with his hands rubbing over his thighs nervously as they both waited for an officer to come over and take Niall.  
  
Harry pushes himself off the bed and stands in front of Niall, weaving his fingers through his blond hair. Niall ushers him closer by his shirt and as their bodies touch and their faces are enough close they kiss. It's lingering and it's harsh but passionate. They both know it may be the end.  
  
When they retreat, Niall takes air into his body. He pulls Harry's palm up to his mouth as he pecks it, inhaling in Harry's scent. He always manages to smell good even if all he has is a square soap to scrub his skin with in a lavender odor. Niall twists Harry's ring around his finger as he mumbles, "Keep that on, will ya?"  
  
Harry gazes down on their hands, Niall's fingers massaging his wrist as the other keeps their deed with the gold ring. "You too," he says, voice trodden.  
  
"Don't worry about that."  
  
With these words leaving his mouth the door swings open and a bloke in uniforms enters in, asking Niall if he's ready as he nods. Before he's completely out of the door he observes Harry from behind his shoulder, winking.  
  
Harry knew they won't see each other again soon.  
  
  
 **10 th November, 2018.  
  
  
**"So, it's over then?" stutters Harry into the speaker of his phone.  
  
"I guess so. We can't keep fucking around anymore, Harry. I fell in love with a lad and you have to take care of your own issues. You haven't been in a meeting with your psychologist for more than half a year, and additionally you didn’t touch your pills in three months as well."  
  
He listens to what the bloke on the other line has to say and quick to protest.  
  
"I'm not mental, Nick. If I was they were dumping me into some loony bin as soon as I got there."  
  
It has been a routine for Harry since he told his best friend and ex fuck-buddy Nick that he begun to dream scenarios of him with a blond chap. Once it was somewhere in the Victorian era and the other they were cellmates in a quod. This ring also popped out of nowhere next to his pillow at night. The same one the blond in his dreams wore. The most fucked up thing was that it felt so real. It felt like it happened before. He felt like he _truly_ _knew_ this mysterious boy.  
  
People never acknowledged what he claimed and stated he was mad –even his sister and mother. Every day he wished he never said a word on the matter. He wished he was keeping it to himself and then he wasn't must to go to his stupid superfluous psychologist or use the damn pills that makes his head go dizzy.  
   
"Fine, where are you?" Nick inquired, sighing irascibly.  
  
Harry heard a bag of crisps getting ripped in the background and Nick's indecent chews, a brittle sound suppresses the line.    
  
"On my way home," he deceives as he crosses the road to head to the nearest club he can find. He's lucky it's 1am on a Saturday night and the madness of the swingers and bars had just begun.  
  
"Want me to come over?" he asked, hurries to elaborate. "I mean… to talk. We can-"  
  
"No, it's okay. I'm okay." Harry cuts him off, allaying him and tousling his hair, tightening the jumper's flanks against his chest right after.  
  
"Talk to me, yeah?" Nick says before they end up the call.  
  
"Sure, I will."  
  
He stuffs his phone into the back pocket of his skinny blue jeans, watching a vehicle driving in an undue speed and passing a red light. All he can imagine is how he will get pissed enough to pull someone and shag them in the loos like he used to before the whole thing with Nick started and made up a sheer mess.  
  
  
  
                                                                                                                          -- **\-------------**  
  
  
"I'll… I'll go and get some more pints," Niall announced, more to his own self than the two smudged lads on the sofa beside him.  
  
Zayn and Liam were disgustingly inseparable when or without being inebriate, Niall got used to it throughout the years he'd been friends with them.  
  
It's not like he hasn't put his dick inside of some haphazard bloke who never left his side an hour ago. After the unnamed boy came and they emerged out of the loos, Niall buckled back his belt and sent him to his way on the dance floor.  
  
He came near the bar. Fortunately it was half free from people; only two boys from his left and another curly in the right. In lieu of his usual beer he ordered Gin and Tonic with lime. He placed himself on a tool as he waited for his drink to be ready. Niall glanced over the lad sitting in the tool next to him. He had a long matted hair. It was curly but not as quite as he thought—wavy perhaps.  
His pink swollen-from-alcohol lips sucked on the edge of his glass full of vodka and as he sensed some pair of eyes on him he wiggled his own to the side to observe who is doing it. And as the boy removed his hat from his head, putting it on the surface of the bar Harry had to choke as he swigged and the liquid drops down to stain his navy blue t-shirt. Niall sneered with his leer on Harry's vexing behavior.  
  
"You okay, mate?" he asked, chortling slightly and signing the bartender to grab some towels.  
  
"Yeah, I just… yeah sorry," Harry stammered, robbing the tissues from the smitten young bartender.  
  
Niall chuckled again, seeing how Harry dries himself up from the side. "No need to apologize man, really. Need a new shirt? Got one spare in me car,"  
  
As he suggested kindly, Niall never put a notice on the ring garnishing the lad's hand.  
  
"It's fine, honestly."  
  
Niall nodded understanding, picking up his ready liquor and bringing it to his mouth, swilling it and as it burns down his throat he grimaces, and shrivels his all face. "As you wish,"  
  
It has to be someone that _just_ looks like him. Harry promises himself. It _can't_ be the same bloke that came in his dreams. Impossible even, he doesn’t wear any jewelry besides some strings on his wrists. And if he _was_ wearing any kind it wasn't certain it's still really him. Though Harry won’t lie; he has these eyes, them fucking blue eyes that got Harry captured.  
  
The blond still sits there, now a shot glass filled with a strong liquid sets in front of him. He bravely glances at the lad with the corkscrew brown hair, whose hands are holding another drink, his eyes bloodshot. Niall wonders how much of drinks he had, but he asks anyway if he wants to join him in shots.  
  
"C'mon, mate. I pay." Niall ejaculates through the thunderous music, pressing his palm to his chest in a gesture to make the dithering boy comprehend what he's saying more clearly.  
  
"Uh, I dunno,"  
  
"Me mates disregarded me so they could keep their snogging and I'm feeling pretty lonely," Irish accent rolls on his tongue as he speaks in a pout and pleading eyes.  
  
"Are you trying to persuade me with pity here?" the curly laughs shortly before Niall answers.  
  
"Quite. Indeed,"  
  
Harry surrenders to the charming blond and Niall smirks cunningly, ordering more shots onto the bar.  
  
They're behind ten shots each and Harry looks sloshed to death while Niall doesn't even flinch as he takes his eleventh and sniggers when Harry groans. Harry asked how he managed and Niall excused it's in his Irish genes.  
  
As Harry laughs again Niall asks nonchalantly, "Wanna dance?"  
  
"Fuck, right now? I'm pretty pissed, I'll stumble."  
  
"I'd catch ya," Niall said, utterly meaning it.  
  
Harry rolled his eyes and took Niall's hand in his. "Don't ruin it."  
  
They infiltrated their way through the commotion of clammy swaying people. Either they hold their drinks in their hands as they move to the beat or some are free enough to dance how they want. They take a spot in the middle in between other people dancing in duos.  
  
Niall turns Harry around and smashes his back into his chest; his arse hitting lightly Niall's clothed groin. They grind on each other, Niall's hand slips down from Harry's love handle to his thigh as he clutches onto it, fingers digging in his inner thigh, bringing him closer into him.  
  
They dance for a while, music changes in every three to five minutes to different remixes. Niall buries his head into Harry's damp neck and gives the skin a light peck. His nose nuzzles behind Harry's ear and Harry has to lean into his touch with the back of his head against Niall's forehead, his tresses tangling.    
  
"Wanna give me a lap dance?" Niall murmurs out drunkenly, and as quick as he dares to say these words to a stranger, Harry turns on his heel, glaring into Niall's eyes.  
  
"What?" he nervously laughs.  
  
"A lap dance," clarifies Niall cheekily.  
  
"Are you serious?" Harry questions warily.  
  
"No." he snickered, "I'm drunk and it would be disrespectful to do it around those people. I'm quite the gentleman."  
  
"Of course you are," Harry scoffed, rolling his eyes as he places his hand on Niall's shoulders.  
  
Their conversation seemed so easygoing and playful. It came out so naturally it took both of them off guard. Harry gathers Niall's silky yet damp blond strands into his fist while Niall's hand glides down from the small of his back to grasp his arse cheek. His breath catches in his throat. Niall begins to peck on Harry's collarbones as his finger lowers the v-line fabric of his shirt down and holds it there while he does. Niall smirks as Harry throws his head backwards and feels Niall's lips on his. The feeling that he experienced that kind of attachment with this boy already never leaves him. Like those same lips pressed on his skin before and those same hands touched every inch of his body and he weaved his fingers through this same hair and these blue eyes looked at him so lovingly once he wants to see it again. He feels the boy he just and likely he dreamt of more than once merely being there and close he wants to scream at how he's so contented from a reason he can't describe or come down to himself.  

All of a sudden Harry takes Niall's hand and drags him out of the stuffed club into the clean fresh air of beautiful London.

"Feisty you," Niall teased, looking around to spot his Range Rover. He already got Harry's hint and he knows what he wants. Who is he to protest such a thing?  
  
When he finds his vehicle he sighs, defeated.  
  
"We can’t drive, we're too drunk." He huffs, taking his hand out from his coat's pocket when he realizes and snaps out briefly from his haze.    
  
"We can walk, then,"  
  
  
                     
                 **\----------------  
  
  
** The cold breeze blows their faces as they walk on the sidewalk. Niall pulled on the hat of his jumper over his head and Harry wrapped his knitted scarf back around his neck. It's November, after all.

  
Niall sticks the butt of his cigarette in his mouth, inhaling smoke into his lungs as he hollows out his cheeks in the process and as he does he blows it out with his head ducked down, walking with his other hand tucked in the pocket of his jeans. He suddenly can't remember the name of the boy near him. He blames the damn alcohol he loves to consume so much on that matter.  
  
"So how you said they call you?" he asked, cocking his head to the side to gaze Harry, who just laughed and sniffed.  
  
Usually, Niall never really bothers to know the name of the people he's going to fuck. He normally just goes on with it. Most of them don't really mind as long as they get off, same as Niall. He's a selfish person, he knows that. Though, something in this boy draws him in.    
  
"Harry," the curly retorts, smiling as he stares back at the nodding blond.  
  
"Like Harold?" questions Niall and takes another drag from his poisoned cigarette.  
  
"No, just simply Harry."  
  
"Harry," Niall says quietly to himself. There's an impulsive pang in his guts. He fucking swears this name is too much familiar to him.  
  
Of course there's a lot of Harrys living their lives on earth, and perhaps he fucked someone named Harry, but that's very much unlikely he'd remember. Somehow, the name makes his stomach whirl and another uncanny sensation goes through his whole body.  
  
"Yeah, _Niall_ ," Harry teased, deforming a smile on his face. He actually recalled the blonde's name even though the alcohol that is swimming in his blood.  
He was watching how Niall dropped the cigarette onto the floor and left it there as he proceeded ahead.  
  
Niall's flat is quite big. Straight as Harry walked into the house he encountered with an open lounge. A telly screen stands on top of an oak tree cabinet and one set of cream colored Havana sofas. At the other end there's the kitchen, two tools are placed behind a mini island that continues from the counter. There're many colorful magnets on his fridge and photos and a staircase next to a big room leading upstairs. The house smelled nice and it felt like it was very snug to live in there.  
  
Niall hung is jumper casually on the hang by the door and made his way to the kitchen. "That's not all mine. I have a roommate." He elucidated, chuckling slightly as he saw Harry's admiring expression.  
  
"Oh,"    
  
"Yeah, me cousin actually. His father is in the real estate business so when I told him I'm moving to London he offered me to come live with him."  
  
"Irish right?" Harry wondered.  
  
"Yeah I am." Niall smirked, pulling out a glass to pour water into.  
  
Harry looked around, his eyes examining the house. He draws his body towards the room next to the staircase, and as he enters in, he sees it's a bedroom. It's simple with a double sized bed. The sheets covering the bed are plain white and there's not much to the room besides a few pair of trainers lined up neatly next to a massive wardrobe. A drawer with toiletries and some bracelets discarded on the surface. Near the drawer there's a restroom and a mirror glued to the wall at the other corner of the space. A nightstand and a lamp right by the bed.  
    
As Harry notices something on the drawer and reaches for it, Niall startles him and asks from the kitchen, "Want something to drink?"  
  
"Uh –no, thanks." He hesitates slightly and as the object is in his possession, he descends onto the mattress of the bed, rolling the ring in between his fingers.  
  
He feels like there is no air left in his body and his brain stops to work as he stares down at it. He compares it to the one on his finger and his heart sinks to the floor. _This is it. This is the ring._ He attempts to convince himself there is an abundance of those in the world and people have sometimes the same kind of jewelry and it must be coincidence. As he hears footsteps getting closer he jumps up from the mattress and tosses the ring on the drawer as it lands there, swirls around briefly before it settles on its spot. Harry sighs heavily.  
  
"Is everything alright?" Niall asks looking at Harry, quite diverted.  
  
His ashen V-neck clings to his sturdy chest and its sleeves are rolled above his elbows. Skinny light-blue denims tight against his slender legs and as Harry looks up he sees how really breathtaking this boy really is.  
  
"Yeah," Harry mumbles, running a hand through his longish hair, biting his lips anxiously.  
  
"If that's so," the blond trails off, slipping open the drawer of his nightstand and tossing the condom and lube on the mattress of his bed, taking off his blouse. "You ride?"  
  
"Sorry, what?"  
  
"You ride?" Niall asked again, pushing Harry downwards into the mattress by the chest.  
  
By the bewilderment of Harry's countenance, Niall could sense how his laughter lifts up in his throat. He did his best to hold it back though, trying not to daunt away an opportunity for a good fuck.  
  
Harry, who was lying affixed to the mattress by the presence of the boy above him, wandered his eyes everywhere before he voiced out, "I… People usually ride me."  
  
Niall raised his eyebrow almost if he was surprised. "Oh yeah," he started, his legs cradling Harry from each side of his body. "Today it's going to be different,"  
  
As he whispered these words lowly—wickedness seeps through his tone—he casts down towards Harry, lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, chuckling darkly.

"Furthermore, you seemed much, much like a bottom to me when I first saw you."  
  
He peppers light and provoking pecks on Harry's ruby skin. Harry shuts his eyes close as they roll at the back of his head. "Yeah?" slurred Harry, voice is melting as Niall's lips are touching his neck.  
  
"Most definitely," Niall states, his elbows used as a brace to his body.  
  
Niall brashly leans down and presses his lips to Harry's. It's hasty and rushed because as he retracts he stands up and begins to undo his belt, going down on his knees to take off Harry's boots. When he's done he smirks, making his way to the other side of his bed unfastening and unbuttoning his trousers as well. He settles on the mattress and leans against his pillow, only left with his boxers on. He beckons Harry to come over and Harry accedes to him, slithering towards the half-naked blond awaiting for him.   
  
Each of Harry's willowy legs straddling Niall as he sits on his lap, stripping off from his tight shirt, exposing his body whose flesh is occupied by dozen inks.  
  
Niall slept with quite a lot of tattooed men. It never bothered him really; he just loved them clean as he. But those were a clutter on the lad's body, all stamped in different spots, some even glued together.  
  
There was a butterfly at the heart of his torso and swallows upon his chest. His left arm was in another level of mess. At least he had a leniency to grace his right arm with only a couple.  
  
"What all those are for?" Niall asked puzzled, gawking at the painted body.  
  
Harry frowned in confusion, but then he realized Niall was talking about his tattoos.  
  
"Most of them actually mean something," he tittered, eyes darting up from his body to look at the blond.  
  
Niall scoffed, "Most?"  
  
"Yeah, most. Don't you have any?"  
  
"Once I was pissed enough to go to the store with me mates, they all have some on their body. But I'm a coward even when I can't think properly. I was right on the bed and the needle of the tattoo gun almost touched my skin but I felt nausea and had to get up and leave." He narrates his story and laughs at himself, shaking his head as he recalls.  
  
Harry hums, tilting his head down and kisses Niall briefly before Niall initiates another. His fingers play with the hem of Harry's jeans, opening them slowly and peeling them off from his lower half; his palms probing Harry's backside and slipping the fabric off. Harry elevates his body upwards so Niall could take it all down from his body. Once the curly is completely nude he settles back on top of Niall as the blond reaches his hand out to grab the lube and hands it to Harry. Harry takes the bottle and opens the lid, the cold liquid is gushing down on three of his fingers. Niall nods him in encouragement, eyes hinting him to start.  
  
Harry brings his hand backwards, finger tips making patterns around the rim before he pushes one in, scanting his eyes and biting his lips when he hears Niall's heavy respirations. He adds the remaining two together and as he does he lets out a moan and his mouth wide open.  
  
In the moment he's done Niall's boxers are off and he goes to the condom, tearing off the wrapper with his teeth as his left hand is busy stroking his cock.  
Harry props on his knees as Niall slides down the stretching plastic onto himself and holding it in place as Harry goes down on it, whimpering and gasping as it passes through deeper inside of him.  
  
Niall is watching how Harry's face spasms and licks his lips before his own mouth opens up and a throaty noise comes out. Harry adjusts to the feeling of something new—different—filling him up. For almost two years he dedicated his body to only one person who he never even was in a real relationship with while he—Nick—was fooling around with other blokes. Harry knew that, he had no possession over him and he had no right to tell him what to do. He got a blowjob here and there when it was handy but most of the time he went for the easy and hooked up with Nick. Contrasting to his age, Nick was very careless, and it is right to say he was quite feral when it came to drinking and fucking. Harry knew that too, very well, even before they began the all 'friends with benefits' thingy.  
  
Harry swaddled his arms around Niall's neck, rotating his hips as his fingers weaves through the brunette strands on Niall's head. Niall stooped his head against Harry's chest, lips smoothing over the hot, tanned skin and grazes with his teeth; tongue abrading up and down, teasing the spot and as he lets go and moves to his neck, Harry feels cold over the wet spot.  
  
He didn't dare to ask about the ring. He couldn't bring himself to. He also didn't want to ruin the moment. So he retained any curiosity in.  
  
Niall leant back again, grasping Harry's love handles tightly as the curly bounced on his cock greedily and moaned frequently whether it was loud or quiet and restrained. Harry's big palm held onto Niall's nape as the other gripped firmly at the board of the bad; knuckles getting white and red.  
  
Niall observed at him and the thought of how beautiful he was crossed his mind; with his wild, dark corkscrew wet hair, ruddy cheeks and somewhat swollen lips as if though he just sucked a dick. The truth was he only bit them harshly due to how hard he rocked on Niall.  
  
He indulged to it, Niall could tell.  
  
Niall grunted ruggedly as he felt himself deepening into the mattress every time the boy above him leaped upwards and downwards. He was so eager and breathless Niall savored every second of it. He was with some lads who overdid with their moans at the ardor of the moment. Some were so loud Niall had to roll his eyes. Because as much as he was full of himself and as much as he had no doubt he'd be some proper shag, there were no reasons to what came out of their mouth. Harry though, had some delicateness in the sounds he made.    
  
Harry brought Niall further to him and Niall kissed him, slipping his tongue inside of his mouth. Both of them collide as their lips fight against each other in sync. They found some peace though as Niall coiled a bit finding a better position and deciding on cupping Harry's clenched jaw. Caressing the rigid place and inhaling hair through his nostrils, placing his veiny hand at Harry's lower back, pushing him closer into him. Harry's fingers thread in Niall's mixed strands, gripping tightly as he kept on moving his hips. Tauntingly, Niall's digits explored the expanse of the wobbly flesh of Harry's arse cheeks, trailing his fingers to the side and downwards when he feels the pit between the knolls.  
With no hesitation Niall inserted two of his fingers inside of Harry, he was wett and throbbing, fingers adding up to the pressure of his cock. It took Harry utterly off guard and his eyes snapped open abruptly, a loud moan sneaked out of his mouth, his heart beating fast inside of his ribcage.  
  
"Niall," Harry cried out, cackling in pain sorely and holding onto Niall's shoulder harshly, claws digging in the pale flesh.  
  
"It's okay," soothed Niall. "Wait slightly and it's going to feel good soon."  
  
With his words he looked up, worry flashing through his eyes. He began to pepper light kisses on Harry's collarbones, being as tender as he could as his fingers intensify their pace.  
  
Suddenly, as Niall went down, pressing his lips to the middle of Harry's chest and forming marks there, Niall felt like someone put a burden upon his chest. A feeling of an unfamiliar suffocation dawned on him. He paralyzed his deed, his stomach swirling. Niall closed his eyes briefly, breathing in. The hand that held on Harry's shin moves to clutch at the boy's chest, rubbing it rapidly as if he tried to get a hold on something.  
  
It was odd, very fucking odd. Something strafed his mind with reminders of things he'd never experienced, all of them involving with this curly boy.  
  
He gulped hard, thawing the lump in his throat, trying to catch a breath. He breathed out heavily, he felt like he was going to collapse. His hand supported his weight as it grasped Harry's neck.  
  
"What's the matter, Niall?" Harry asked, quite tentative, keeping himself from panicking.  
  
Niall's orbs spun around, and all he could see was his and Harry's entangled naked bodies. He picked up his gaze, breathless and slightly panting, his breath leaves his lungs at the moment his eyes recognize Harry's face. He knows nothing about him but still, there's a feeling he knows him better than anyone.  
  
"Nothing," he breathes, murmuring, "It's quite hot in here."  
  
"Okay?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
It took him a few seconds to pull himself back together, Harry was patient enough. As he breathed in, he immediately shoved his fingers back inside of Harry's velvet tight walls to accompany his still hard cock. Harry tightened his lips together into a line, beginning slowly to fuck onto Niall and his fingers, wrapping his arms back around Niall's neck, fondling with his fingers soothingly. Niall relaxes a bit, taking one of Harry's nipples in his mouth, sucking and towing the skin by his teeth.  
  
Harry buries his head at the crook of Niall's neck, hopping himself and groaning when he lands sharply and listens to Niall's fragmented grunts. Niall fucks Harry's hole with his fingers, thumb stroking his back and adding a fourth finger. "Takes it so well, fuck," Niall coos, kissing Harry's shoulder briefly.  
  
"Told you it's good,"  
  
Harry's pulsing cock rubs against Niall's hefty torso, the friction brings him to his climax and he warns Niall before he comes with a moan that echoes in the room. Niall's breathe heaves as he flips them and somehow, Harry ends up with his back on the mattress and Niall on top of him. Niall grasps Harry's shins and fucking him hard and desperate as he's in control now. He falls over, still thrusting into Harry, his muscular arms engulfing Harry's head in between them, his own props down to kiss Harry's neck as he fists some tresses tightly and tugs, groaning into Harry's ear. He feels like he can come again.  
  
Two, three more thrusts and Niall comes inside of the condom, nuzzling his head against Harry's neck as he pants, catching a breath. Harry sighs, contended.  
Niall lifts himself up, kissing Harry briskly, pulling off the condom and tossing it into the rubbish bin.  
  
Harry flops on the other side of the bad, covering his naked body with the warm duvet. Within seconds he falls asleep. He was exhausted.  
  
As Niall slips on his boxers and gets under the covers as well, he runs his hand through his unruly blond hair, taking a look at the back of the boy he just fucked, inhaling deeply in frustration and uncertainness. What just happened to him was surreal.  
  
  
  
                                                                                                                                 **\--------------  
  
  
** When Niall opened his eyes in the morning, he grabbed his phone and shut downthe alarm, groaning and tossing the mobile on the pillow from his left, burying his head back into the cushion and falls asleep.  
  
The alarm goes off again, and Niall cusses, his head throbbing from yesterday and he could sleep for five more hours. He stands on his knees, creasing his eyebrows when he sees the spot that was taken last night was now empty. He was surprised when he saw it was, though. Most of the times he had to drag them out of his bed and invite them a cab. The thing was that with him, it was different, he felt different.  
  
He shrugged and rolled out of bed, something drew him towards his cabinet as he picked the ring that was there for almost half a year. He thought it had no meaning, it probably didn't. But he took it anyway, tottering out of his room with the object in his hand, grabbing out a fag from the packet that was laid on top of the kitchen counter and emerging out to his terrace, leaning on the railing and thinking he's lucky enough that Willie's not home.  
  
Niall tucks the cigarette in between his lips, lighting it with the lighter he holds in his left hand as the other clutches on the ring. He throws it on the glass table that sits surrounded by five chairs and pulls the stick out of his mouth to let the smoke out. He holds it between his fingers and examines the ring, feeling even more baffled.  
  
"Fuck,"  
  
 **  
\-------------**  
  
  
"You need to go out." Declares Liam as he speaks firmly from the other line of the phone.  
  
"I'm fine," Niall murmurs in derision. It is futile to even try and convince him.  
  
He pulls out a tumbler glass from his cabinet, opening a bottle of brandy.  
  
"It's been two months mate. Go to some gay club, find proper shag, you need to get laid."  
  
Niall rolls his eyes in a scoff, dismissing from talking back to his best friend waiting from behind the line for Niall to do so when he brings the glass full of liquor to his mouth, propping with his elbows on his marble counter as he chugs his drink.  
  
"That's why I have my loyal assistant of a hand for," he says rather dully, pouring another round in his tumbler and downs it too quickly before he continues. "Besides, you know rather well how much I despise them stupid gay clubs."  
  
Liam sighs, frustrated from the persistent blond bloke.  
  
It's been like that for two months, him deciding to stay home whenever his group of mates wants to go out and party. Truth is he was too tired. He had those arcane dreams—nightmares—where he _always_ but always has to go away from something or someone and he tries to come back to them but never succeeds. It always ends up with him lying covered in a pool of blood or hanged by a rope. It was scary, he felt mental. Every night he snaps out of his sleep; all panting and sweaty, lost in his own mind. He gulps loudly and rubs his hands over his face and as quick as he regains his balance he removes his covers, sloppily walking into his kitchen with only his boxers. Not really caring if he'd wake up Willie or one of his girlfriends, making himself a cup of tea and settling to watch whatever crappy movie is on.  
  
He ditches out from work for a week now, calling in sick. That's at least how he feels like. His eyes are red and swollen, he looks paler than he was before and when Willie remarked he looked like shit, for once, he believed him.  
  
The oddest of things is that all these nightmares had had begun the night after he slept with that curly boy.        
  
"You're the only gay guy who actually hates to go over gay clubs, you know that?" Liam muffles, precipitating his words out.  
  
"And you're the master of making sense, Liam," the blond sneers sarcastically, steering barefoot towards his fridge and opening its door, fumbling for something to feed himself with.  
  
"Right now, I'm making more sense than you do."  
  
He could hear Zayn shuffling beside Liam, whispering in his ear something that is supposed to be naughty. Niall cringes. As much as he likes when two men are fucking, hearing his two best mates being somewhat sexual with one another makes him want to vomit out all of his empty stomach, maybe his organs too.  
  
"Tell your boyfriend you'll do him later," he chuckles, grasping a rotten tomato, grimacing in disgust as he pulls it out and tosses it into the rubbish bin.  
  
He should clean his fridge, urgently.  
  
Liam disregards his words, and Niall is sure his hand is now somewhere on Zayn's body, just to shut him up. "What happened to you Niall?" concern seeps through Liam's tender tone.  
  
"What happened to me?" Niall repeats, knowing exactly.  
  
He stands in front of the open fridge, gazing down at his feet and taking off the towel that was lying on his shoulder, throwing it over the counter as it lands right on top of the kettle on his stove.   
  
"Niall," Liam pushes, voice encouraging for him to tell, to spill it all like he used to do years ago.    
  
"What?"  
  
Niall's voice comes out harsher than he had intended, but he couldn't care less. He couldn't tell anyone, ever. They would not understand how he actually feels. He knows all that would run out of their mouths would be idle words. Things he had already heard more than million times before over and over again.  
  
When he hears silence and Liam never utters a word again, he takes it as a cue to change a subject and hang off the call.  
  
"I ran out of eggs, talk to ya later." He rumbles and hangs before Liam has any flimsy chance of saying something.  
  
He groans, running his hands over his face and up to his hair, tugging at the blond locks roughly as he tears off his jumper from the chair it was put on and pulls it over his body, shoveling his mobile into his joggers' pockets and taking his keys, getting into his vehicle and heading to Tesco.  
  
  
  
                                                                                                                                  -----------------  
  
  
As Niall ambled at Tesco at midnight, fishing for something he could cook rather quickly right after he shoved the eggs he excused to need and a six-pack of Stella beer into his basket, the roaring noises breaking through the massive refrigerators filled by ice creams and frozen goods were the only sound that was heard in the large supermarket.  
  
He picked new toothpaste and a soap that seemed fine to use, tossing the objects carelessly onto his tiny stack of nothings. It was the least he went out for lately; going to do his groceries. With his plain joggers and t-shirt, his hair not styled up in even one bit. It was unruly like that, and Niall couldn't say he truly minded.  
  
He basically looked like a swab soaked with filth, a total wretch. He had never, in his life, let himself go like this. He wouldn't be shocked if he knew he perhaps gained some pounds from just sitting around being a total slug, pitying himself about how shit is life were at the moment. Niall hated he even started a conversation with that haunting curly lad. This boy only ruined everything. Niall was too selfish to be sufficed by the slender kid with them glitters under his eyes. He won't admit other things drawn him towards the brunette and not just his sexual wills.  
  
This all situation was surreal to him. He had visions with this boy he could swear he only met once in his life. Visions he couldn't comprehend. He was so baffled. He deliberated himself as an utter lunatic now. This couldn't be real.  
  
When he tilted his head to the side, his mind went blank. This wild mane of longish ringlets stood with its back to Niall's blazing gaze. He shook his head as if to make the thoughts about him being actually that bloke—Harry— go and dissolve away. He even remembered his name—fucking bollocks.  
  
He attempted to avoid him and move forward and leave. To go back to his flat and dwell in bottles of alcohol, perhaps tomorrow he'd lift his arse up from the sofa and wear his suit on, go to work. The plans shattered down like pieces of glass, scattering on the ground once he heard his name coming out in a husky, small voice.  
  
"Niall," he cussed, covering his forehead with his palm in vexation.  
  
He had to face it now.  
  
But instead he kept walking, as if he didn’t hear. That until he felt a big hand grasping his shoulder and shoving him backwards. The voice was calling his name again.  
  
He turned around; eyes blown, feigning surprise. Harry looked at him oddly for a couple of seconds before he cleaned his throat, muttering a "Hi,"  
  
Niall pressed his lips together nervously, scratching the back of his head and down his nape, sweeping his hand over his neck, keeping it there for a while.  
  
"Hey," he answered, rubbing his calloused hand over his throat as if he was about to choke or vomit. Which honestly he thought would be better than standing here in front of this bloke that never leaves his mind.  
  
They both looked around them awkwardly. It was new to Niall, since he was a smooth talker and maintained a conversation with practically anyone, even if it was an uncomfortable one. This all sensation he had around the curly was different.  
  
As they gazed each other solemnly, standing quietly in this massive shop, Niall decided he'd be bold as he always and speak up.  
  
"How are you?" Niall asked, sighing a bit at the end of his short sentence.  
  
"Good, well." Retorted Harry, looking down at his own shopping basket, which was still half empty.  
  
"Good."  
  
"Yeah,"  
  
"So, listen mate," Niall started, pausing a little before he continued. "Remember what happened when we… slept together?"  
  
Harry nodded, encouraging him to go on.  
   
"I… had them weird dreams since." Is all he says for a while, "I can't really explain you this. It will sound even much madder out loud probably,"  
  
"What are you on about?" Harry questioned, furrowing his eyebrows naïvely as if he was truly oblivious and ignorant.  
  
Truth was he knew too well for his liking about those crazy dreams. He looked down, glaring at Niall's hand that was clutching his basket tighter now. He still didn’t wear the ring, unlike Harry who always did.  
  
"I don't know, Harry," he murmurs, running his palm over his eyes. He was tired physically and mentally. He felt worn out. "I do not fucking know. Fuck, this is so fucking weird. After you left, that night, I went to sleep and all I did was turn and toss in my bed like a bloody worm. I couldn't think about anything else but what had occurred on the very bed I was sleeping in, with you.  
  
"The sex was amazing, yeah? But when I blacked out for a few seconds while I kissed you, I had this pang coming over me. Something in me guts, passing through me with some lost memory I'd never even lived in."  
  
"I know," blurts Harry out of the blue. Oh, he knows.  
  
"Sorry?" Niall blinked, crossing his arms around his chest as he was trying to understand, leaning against a stance of soaps and body-wash products that was right by his side.  
  
Harry ponders whether to spill it all or not. Because the blond already kind of did so, and he reckons he had the same thing happening to him longer than Niall, he experienced it all and probably even worse.  
  
"I said I know. I know what you are talking about. I had them too, but that is happening for almost a year now." He begins, gulping down and dismissing his fear and uncertainness. He tried to comprehend this for so long. "I recognized you from my dreams when I saw you in the club, that's why I happened to spit out my drink."  
  
"What the fuck?" Niall hissed in disbelief. More to himself, perhaps utterly to himself as he wiped his damp mouth with his finger pads thoughtfully. But he was audible enough so Harry could hear him clearly.  
  
Harry stays silent when he watches how Niall is reaching for a teabags packet and swishes it in the air from side to side as if he's trying to hint Harry on something, tossing it into his basket. "Wanna… wanna come over mine, for a tea, talk about it?"  
   
Before Niall can finish Harry is nodding positively. "Sure, I would love that."   
  
  
  
                                                                                                                                   ---------------  
  
Once they park in front of Niall's flat, each in his own vehicle, Niall was the first to emerge out of his Range Rover and slam the door behind him, stepping onto his doorsteps. He waited for Harry right by his door. With his right hand shoved into his joggers.  
  
Harry was trudging over. His shoulders are hunched forward and his arms are crossing his toned chest as he's shivering under his black pullover.  
  
Niall puts his keys inside the keyhole and unlocks the door, pushing it open by its knob. Harry enters first as he's once again in this house, not even having the time to observe again and admire before he's being pushed up against one of the entrance walls.  
  
Harry gasps and his eyes are instinctively getting shut. Niall had an impulsive will, a selfish and vile volition to just do this, to lunge on him with no second thought. Initially, he put himself off guard as well, but something in his conscious bawled at him to do this, to just lean in and kiss this boy.  
  
So he did. And his taste was still familiar. His lips were still soft and chubby while Niall's were chapped and dry. The combination worked well though, Harry really didn't mind. What they felt like was indescribable, acutely puzzling. And as they kissed, it was even more baffling. But it was like coming home from a long trip in Africa, as cheesy as it is. Their lips worked together in a longing sensation that is very much unorthodox for two men who only met and fucked once, from what they can remember.  
  
Niall cupped Harry's cheeks as they kissed. Harry's hand reaching over to weave in Niall's platinum locks, tugging it in desperation as Niall rutted his hips against Harry, hankering for him, to feel him.  
  
Tugging rougher now, Harry moaned into the kiss as Niall became more frantic with his movements. When he let go, Harry pouted in dismay. Though as Niall did so, he immediately dragged Harry to his room by the hem of his shirt.  
  
Niall was only with his black boxers as he plunged down his bed with a smug look on his face. His eyes blazed Harry's body, like he was shredding his skin off with his emerald blue orbs. Harry just stood there in front of him paralyzed, waiting for any instruction or allusion for him to do something, make a move.  
  
"Strip," Niall finally said, expression blank and tone solidified.  
  
At the moment Niall commands him, Harry's heart threatens to jump out of his chest. He breathes in as his deer green eyes dares to look up at the anticipating blond. His elbow supports his body weight and his position is diagonal, legs sprawled over the mattress.  
  
Suddenly Harry feels so vulnerable, what he asked him to do, in Harry's perspective was something so intimate to do between too people who don't know much of each other. Of course he already saw him nude, sure. But Niall lies there, with only his briefs on, a _ctually_ wanting to see Harry taking his clothes off his body. And without thinking, Harry began to unbutton his menswear.  
  
"Be more graceful!" scowled Niall as Harry crawled out of his pullover, tossing it onto the floor.  
  
He didn't say a word, just obliged and unfastened his jeans fly, tugging it down slowly off his body. His jeans are always tight, but as they reached his shins he rolled out of them, stepping on the fabric as he now, went to hook his fingers around the hem of his boxers.  
  
"No," Harry heard Niall growling, his hand rattling slightly when he stopped abruptly, head snapping up so he'd look at Niall. "Want to watch you, want you to touch yourself."  
  
Niall's glare was taunting, as if he dares him to do what he had just told him.  
  
Waiting for Harry, Niall grabbed a cushion and fixed it under his head so he'd be more convenient to contemplate at the show that was going to be displayed right inside his room. He never wastes his time on others. Specifically when it comes to sex, when all he do is fuck their brains out until they come quick enough for Niall to do too. Though this time, with _him_ , with Harry, he has the unearthly desire to see how he gets off, just by himself.  
  
Harry inhales, swallowing hardly, trying to get rid from the lump stuck in the middle of his throat. He obeys as he pinches his nipple, tugging the skin and caressing it with his thumb. From his nipple he diverts his hand down his torso and palms himself through the fabric of his boxers. He deepens the heel of his palm, rubbing teasingly slow. When he feels the stiffness he brings his hand back up and into his boxers. As he takes a hold of his shaft, he begins to stroke with ease, spinning his head to the side as he bites his full lips, thumb rubbing the tip and he squeezes. Pulling up and down, he draws circles with his thumb pad, smearing pre-come all over.  
  
Niall's own hard-on begins to form and wake up to life. He nonchalantly props back on his elbow, bringing his hand to play with his cock through the fabric of the boxers he still wore. His fingers wavering across the expanse as he rubbed as well, listening to Harry low and reserved whimpers and moans, observing how his head was thrown backwards; eyes closed, mouth ajar and his hand pumping his dick that still was caged inside by the fabric walls of his briefs.  
  
Harry comes with a groan, panting briefly, opening his eyes and sighing.  
He pulls off the stained cloth, walking merely counted inches until he climbs on top of the bed, eyes mischievous as he slithers towards Niall, whose face wore a smirk. He presses open-mouthed kisses on Niall's hipbones all while he slides Niall's boxers down his slender, rigid legs.  
  
The fabric is off and Niall's cock is furiously throbbing, swollen against his abdomen. Harry takes him in within seconds, swirling his tongue over the tip and hollows his cheeks, giving more pressure around the base and grasping the expanse he couldn't surround with his mouth in his hand, stroking lightly.  
  
Niall observes at Harry; how his big full lips looks so beautiful around him, how he never gags but his eyes are watery as he looks up briskly, seeing how Niall grimaces and knits his eyebrows together. How he grunts and cusses. Praising Harry's lips and tugging at his messy curls roughly. Harry moans around him and as he does, Niall begins to thrust his hips up, feeling his orgasm rising from the pits of his stomach. He groans and pulls Harry up by his hair, getting on his knees, cock still pulsing and full, waiting for a release.  
  
"Up, all on fours," Niall tells him in a rushed tone, inpatient. 

Harry clambers, exhausted already but willing for more as he props up on both his arms and knees. Niall maneuvers on his knees behind Harry, taking a grasp on a condom and lube and sullies his fingers with the cold liquid. Without a warning he pushes three fingers inside, eager to get done already so he could just fuck him and release. Harry groans as Niall urges his fingers in a frantic rhythm. He pulls out and wears the condom, putting on it some lube too.  
  
He enters sharply, never wasting a worthless second on not pleasing himself, or Harry. It never occurs to him why he even cares about Harry being satisfied.  
  
He thrusts rapidly, Harry's face flat against the mattress and his arse up the air for Niall, fisting the sheet and moaning with every intensified thrust. Niall peppers wet kisses over Harry's flushed back as he fucks mercilessly into him. His mouth reaches Harry's neck, biting the skin as he grunts, the sound lashing Harry's ears.  
  
He drags harshly at Harry's hair, bringing his head up as Harry wincing is blended with a moan. Niall connects their lips together forcefully, their clenched together lips making a wet sound as they meet and part.  
  
"You like that?" Niall remarks breathlessly, keeping on thrusting. "When people hurt you during them fucking you?"  
  
He wisps his nose against Harry's cheek, mouth ajar as he pants, so fucking close to his climax.  
  
"Yes," Harry moans, urging his arse backwards into Niall.  
  
Niall retreats slightly as he holds Harry's love handles. Just like the time two months ago when he rode him. He loved them, frankly, having something to hold at. He fucks in five more times before he comes and grunting, collapsing to the side and his head hits the pillow, Harry doing the same next to him only his stomach hits the mattress and he breathes heavily because he came too. They don't bother on cleaning anything, just Harry's hand slipping under the duvet Niall covered himself with, tearing off the condom full of spunk from Niall's cock, tossing it to the rubbish bin.  
  
Unexpectedly, Harry shuffles and brings his body closer, cuddling into Niall and resting his head on his chest. Niall hesitated a little bit, looking down at Harry who starts to caress Niall's torso with his long fingers. Niall gives in, letting go of his ego and mantling his right arm around Harry, threading his fingers through Harry's hair, massaging.  
  
Niall chuckled as he recalled what Harry was supposed to do here instead of fucking with Niall. "Good talk we had."  
  
"Yeah, qualitative tea." Harry laughed, breathing in.    
  
Harry is sighing, still rubbing over Niall's skin. Niall looks down, gulping as he sees the ring on Harry's ring finger.  
  
"You wear that a lot?" inquired Niall, taking Harry's palm and getting it closer to his face.  
  
"All the time," Harry simply retorts.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I have no clue. Whenever I want to take it off, even to take a shower I feel like I am betraying someone or violate some oath I made."  
  
Niall nods, caressing the back of Harry's hand.  
  
Harry stands up abruptly, and Niall watches the nude boy fumbling with something he grasped off from his cabinet. As he returns, he presents the ring that sat there for such a long time.  
  
"Why don't you wear yours?" Harry said as if he was angry. He didn't know where it came from even, he just blurted it out.  
  
"What?" Niall asked with a dry chortle seeping in as he speaks, taking the ring from Harry's hold.  
  
Harry shakes his head. "Sorry,"  
  
"No, why must I wear this? It's just a fucking ring one of the blokes I once fucked probably left here." He lied.  
  
At first though, when he spotted it lying on top of the cabinet he thought so. He thought it was a ring belonged to someone else. But when it appeared out of the blue, the same week Niall was overly bothered with a project at work and didn't have time to go out and party, it made him much more confused.  
  
"Oh," Harry murmured, slipping off the ring from his finger and placing it on the mattress, his crossed legs engulfing the jewelry. "Mine and yours, they are the same. Don't you think it's something to do with all the dreams and stuff?"  
  
"No, this is nonsense."  
  
As Niall disqualified him, Harry laughed in frustration. "None of this is making sense anyway!" he straggled closer to Niall, putting his arms on each of Niall's shoulders, their faces so close they could feel the respirations puffing on their skin. "Listen, I've been going mad for almost a year now. I can't do this anymore. It's you. You're the one I was constantly with. You're the one I shared bed with. The one that told me 'I love you'. And I _wasn't only dreaming_."  
  
Niall didn't know what to do. He didn't know what to say. It was too much overwhelming. But held Harry's head and embraced him with his solid arms, inhaling air to his lungs as Harry nuzzled his head at the crook of his neck.  
  
"This is bloody odd," he hissed, leaning into Harry's temple.  
  
"So odd," concurred Harry, sighing against Niall's neck.  
  
It was an abnormal plight. Like they were complete strangers, but there was some kind of past connection between them. All those dreams, they seemed like they happened, even if Niall and Harry felt like they've never really experienced them. There was no coherent and decent answer to what was going on. Probably there never will. And as surreal as it indeed was, Harry still remained in Niall's arms with the same familiar sensation he always felt around him. He didn't feel as mad as he did before.  

**Author's Note:**

> i thought about a sequel as well, but first i need to know your thoughts. 
> 
> find me on tumblr -harrvy.


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